


Dangerous Wings

by APerfectGrace



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Consensual Sex, Demon!Castiel, F/M, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Themes, Violence, dark themes, family illness, prince of hell!Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-09 16:03:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3255959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APerfectGrace/pseuds/APerfectGrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have to make a deal with a crossroads demon to save your dying brother’s life, but you aren’t prepared for what he looks like, nor what he asks for in return…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beg At Your Feet

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE: Edited.
> 
> Finally I WROTE something. *Head on desk*
> 
> This is darker than my usual stuff, yo. Castiel is a DEMON in this. Therefore he’s a dick and calloused and lewd and hot and manipulative and hot and sordid. And HOT. But still a demon.

You stood stiffly in the middle of the crossroads, trying to will the beat of your heart to cease its crazy staccato. You wondered, for the thousandth time that night, whether you had lost it for good this time.

You ran your trembling fingers over the small box in your hands, casting a wary eye around you.

No one was around.

Why would anyone be? You were in the middle of nowhere, a drive carried out only by _crazy_ people who wanted to hide or who had something _to_ hide.

Well, when you thought about it, you supposed that you came under the latter. You didn’t need anyone knowing the weird shit that you were about to get up to.

To be honest, _you_ had a hard time believing the weird shit you were about to get up to. And it was _weird_ , but you had officially run out of options.

Once you had finally steeled your nerves enough to go through with this, you had opened a map and had searched for the most out of the way area you could find, and _boy_ , was this place out of the way. A three hour drive from the nearest town in fact. No one would think to look for you here, nor realise what you were up to.

You preferred it that way.

The moon was almost at its highest point in the sky, and a gentle breeze rolled over you, whirring around the fields surrounding the crossroads. You had parked your car under a nearby tree, and the gravel under your feet seemed to punctuate each step with a loud, hollow echo.

You released a shaky breath, eyes sliding shut and mentally counting to ten, just like your brother had taught you.

_Your brother._

At the thought of him, a large ache gnawed at your chest, and your stomach felt heavy, like it was lined with lead.

After all, he was the _entire_ reason you were here.

You didn’t even know if this was going to work. You were just here on some ridiculous, _ludicrous_ hunch, but when people run out of normal options even the crazy choices start to look _real_ good.

But god… _god_ , you hoped this would be the answer to your prayers. You had nothing else left.

You crouched down and precariously lowered the box into the hole you had previously dug, covering it with the dirt around it and patting it into a solid mound. You straightened back up, your heart thumping loudly and blood roaring in your ears.

Now, you just had to wait to see if your prayers would be answered.

Your brother had terminal lung cancer.

He had been diagnosed a year ago, after a long while of numerous unexplained symptoms and not ever feeling _quite_ a hundred per cent. After many, many, _many_ tests, the doctors finally broke the news, and on top of that, had managed to make this unbelievable bombshell even _worse_ by declaring that he had less than eighteen months to live. It was…

It was like the entire world had collapsed in on you.

The pain that had flared up inside of you at the news was _unbelievable_. It was a constant, excruciating hurt that settled heavily over your heart, like a net trapping anything good and whole and binding it away, leaving terror and despair and bitterness.

He didn’t deserve this. He deserved a long, fulfilling life. He deserved a wife who cherished him and children to carry on his legacy and a house to call his own; he deserved a _life_.

You remember throwing up when you found out.

It wasn’t _fair_.

But your brother had just smiled at you, held your hand tightly in his and told you, in that gentle way of his, that sometimes people went early, and it just meant that God needed His angels a little quicker than He had planned. He had looked so calm and wise and tender when he spoke with you that you almost felt your restlessness and heartbreak ease. Almost.

Maybe the doctors were wrong. Oh, how you hoped the doctors were wrong.                            

That had been before the cancer had started to grow, infecting every part of him that it touched and spreading its horrible poison, killing every healthy cell in its wake, weakening him, killing him.

Now, he was confined to a bed, a shell of his former self as he drew ever closer to the edge. Chemicals were pumping through him in an effort to ease his pain, but you knew the truth. You had seen it when you had visited him a week ago, seen it in those feverish eyes of his, sunken around frail skin and etched with terror and regret.

That familiar bile rose in your throat and you shook your head, determined not to cry. You were here for him. For _him_. You had to be _strong_. You had to –

“Let me guess. Dying relative?” a low, smooth voice piped up behind you, making you jump about a foot in the air in fright.

You whirled around and, really, there was just no way to prepare yourself for what you saw next.

A man was leaning against the tree, looking at you intently.

He was tall and well-built; you could see that from the way the trench coat he was wearing strained around the curve of his crossed arms. Underneath the coat was a dark suit, crisp shirt and a crooked, blue tie, but they did nothing to hide the long, muscular limbs underneath them.

You swallowed instinctively, eyes hazing over a little.

His head was cocked to the side as he regarded you with a level-headed stare, almost like he was trying to gauge your person.

Your eyes drifted upwards and settled just above his shoulders. At the sight, your stomach suddenly flipped.

He had such a wonderfully chiselled face that, had you not known any better, you would have been convinced had been carved by angels. A dusting of stubble covered his strong chin and jawline, framing pink, supple lips that were currently curved into a barely-there smile, although the emotion behind his smile remained unknown. A long, pointed nose sat between high, defined cheekbones, and you felt your heart thump hard at the luminescent, blue eyes that were currently trained on you. Thick, dark hair fell haphazardly all over his head, and you could see his Adam’s apple slide down in a slow bob as he watched you, the movement enrapturing you.

“H-How the hell did you know that?” you asked in astonishment, eyes still on his throat.

“It’s my job to know, sweetheart,” he smirked, pushing himself off of the tree and stalking over to you in a way much like a predator moves towards its prey. Your mouth twitched at the pet name. “Besides, you’re pretty easy to read.”

At this, the temporary spell he seemed to have over you dissipated, and your eyebrows quickly drew together in a frown. The way he spoke to you sparked irritation that wormed its way under your skin, clouding your initial wariness.

“Yeah, well, I’m having what you would call a rough day,” you snapped back a little sharply, in no mood for games as he came to a stop in front of you.

When he reached you, his body heat seemed to emanate over you, making you shift on the spot. The air held a faint scent of ash, too.

For a second you thought you could read disbelief across his face, but if there was it rapidly disappeared, his features adopting a fake-concerned look instead. “Well, I’m here to make it all better,” he said saccharinely, his smile honey-sweet as he spread his arms innocently.

Honestly, it felt like he was goading you. But _why?_

You didn’t move, body wary and tense. He had literally appeared out of _nowhere_. No one just appeared out of nowhere in the _middle_ of nowhere. There was no car around, no motorcycle, nothing to indicate how exactly he had got there. More disturbing than that, you hadn’t even heard him arrive. Despite how insanely attractive he was, something about him was putting you on edge.

“And _you_ are?” you found yourself demanding.

“You can call me a friend, if you like,” he grinned lasciviously, eyes glinting as his gaze deliberately dropped down to the swell of your chest and back up again.

You ignored that completely, along with the way it made your skin prickle with heat, instead choosing to glance around your surroundings again, still not understanding. “Where did you _come_ from?”

“Hell,” he said nonchalantly, flicking dust off of his sleeve.

You snorted derisively. “No, really.”

He actually had the _audacity_ to roll his eyes at you. “ _You’re_ the one who summoned _me_ , idiot. Surely you know where I come from.”

You made an angry noise at the insult, glaring at him. He stared back, eyes practically burning a hole in your head.

Without warning, his words began to sink into your brain. _Summoned?_ Wait. Did that mean…?

As if to prove a point, he suddenly shifted, and nothing could have prepared you for the moment _enormous ebony wings_ crept out of his back, stretching far and wide over his head, and you fell backwards with a shout, eyes bulging out of your head at the incredible, unbelievable sight. If you weren’t seeing it with your very own eyes, you would never have believed it, not in a million years.

He… he had… _those were_ …

He flapped them once, dust rising rapidly at the sudden motion, making you cough as you scrambled back onto your feet once more, awestruck. Your eyes roamed everywhere: across the ridges of his wings, along the shimmering feathers that seemed to have a life of their own, right down to the very tips, leaving you dumbstruck and mesmerised. You yearned to touch them, to know what they felt like under your hands. He watched your reaction with keen interest, his smile taking on a different turn. He folded them away, his wings disappearing altogether after that small display.

And then it _struck_ you.

“You mean…” You whipped your head behind you to the small mound in the middle of the road. “Holy shit, you mean that actually _worked?_ ”

He followed your line of sight and tilted his head to the side. “It would appear so,” he retorted, amused.

You exhaled a long breath, your shoulders slumping. It _worked_. The relief washing over you was so intense that you thought you could burst into tears at any moment.

Meanwhile, he was surveying you intently, a squint in his eyes. “You don’t seem nearly as terrified or surprised about this as you should be.”

“I pay attention,” you replied quietly, the memory of his wings replaying in your mind. “I’m well aware that supernatural beings exist in this world.”

It was true.

You weren’t stupid. You knew that the ritual you had performed involved the supernatural. You had heard stories before, rumours, of things that didn’t, _couldn’t_ be human. Honestly, it made sense in a way. Humans couldn’t be the only thing occupying the planet. Armed with the urge to know more, you had taught yourself everything you could about supernatural lore, learning about things called _tulpas_ and _djinn_ and _vampires_ and _wendigoes_ and _demons_.

It was _so much_ to take in, the knowledge that human beings weren’t alone in this world, surrounded by things that shouldn’t be real and yet were. It was terrifying to think about it, and now you had one of those beings _right_ _in front of you_.

But which one? You weren’t quite sure.

It should be said that it should probably have been more than a little alarming that you weren’t the least bit afraid by his presence, only curious and captivated. Besides, the way he had looked when his wings had materialised had been all kinds of seductive…

“Clever girl,” he commented with a sly smirk, eyes roaming your form suggestively. “Lucky girl, too.”

You couldn’t help the corners of your mouth dip upwards. “How’d you figure that one?”

“Because now you have the immense pleasure of a private consultation with the Prince of Hell, and I can definitely say that–”

“Whoa,” you blurted in a panic, eyes wide as you raised a hand to halt him. “Run that by me one more time? The Prince of Hell?”

“Yes,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a child, “that _is_ what I just said.”

“You’re the Prince of Hell,” you reiterated in a tone that said you quite clearly thought he gone completely off the rails.

Although you just saw wings sprout out of a man’s back so, really, who was the _real_ crazy one? _We’re all mad here_. You shook your head, dispelling the Alice reference away and concentrating back on him.

He grinned lightly at you, and offered a low, sweeping bow. “At your service.”

“The Prince of _Hell?_ ” Your voice rose a couple of octaves in your shock.

Although that moment had _nothing_ on the absolute astonishment that coursed through your body as his head tipped downwards whilst his focus remained on you, eyes instantly transforming from vivid blue into _pitch black_.

His pupils, irises, sclera… they were all _black_.

You let out a loud cry in surprise, stumbling backward and he laughed exultantly as he gazed at you through his eyelashes, the black slowly fading away to reveal blue irises once more.

“W-What the _fuck?_ ” you whispered, stunned eyes transfixed on his.

“I’m a demon, if you can wrap that around your tiny human mind,” he clarified drily, but the veiled barb went right over your head as you contemplated what he had just told you.

He was a _demon._ And not just any demon: the _Prince of Hell._

Holy _crap._

You couldn’t even _begin_ processing that information. Not only was he a demon, but apparently he ran the Pit too? What the fuck? And that was another thing… what exactly would the Prince of Hell be doing here in the first place? A cold wave washed through you as you realised that you might have stepped into more than you bargained for.

See, this… _this_ would be the perfect time to be petrified.

“You can call me Castiel,” he offered in a scraping, husky tone, mirth written across his face as he watched your emotions flit across your face.

“Castiel?” you repeated, his grated voice settling low in your stomach. That was an interesting name...

You failed to notice the way his eyes flickered at the way his name rolled off your tongue, too engrossed in the whirlwind of your own thoughts to pay him any attention. “You… but… Prince of… how the…”

“Look...” he trailed off with a frown, realising that he didn’t know your name.

“Y/N,” you supplied for him.

His mouth quirked upwards at the mention of your name, tongue licking his lips depravedly. “ _Y/N_ …” He almost groaned it, making your stomach clench and your breath stutter. “While I would _love_ to stay and chat, I actually do have a business to attend to, so time is of the essence. Eternal damnation doesn’t run on its own, you know.”

Your eyebrows knitted together. “What?”

He sighed loudly, staring down at you. “Either you’re wasting my time, which I might actually have to go ahead and kill you for considering how preciously little of it I have to spare right now, or I’m assuming that I’m here for a reason.”

“Oh… yes,” you responded, mood blackening rapidly as your memories came flooding back, that familiar dread squeezing tightly around your chest. “I need you to save my brother.”

Castiel slowly raised an eyebrow at you. “Oh?”

“He’s dying of cancer, he just… please, I don’t know what else to do…”

He regarded you for a long, long moment. “Explain.”

And so you did, spilling forth every rotten detail about the situation, and throughout the entire thing he just nodded, face stoic and composed while your emotions welled up inside you, bubbling and storming until, by the time you finished talking, tears were streaming down your face.

“And then Mary told me that there were these people, people who could help, and she told me to find this book, and it told me _everything_. About these… these crossroad deals, and now here I am, and I need your help.”

He squinted at you in a way that, in other circumstances, you would have probably construed as actually rather adorable. “I see. You do realise what you’re offering me, right?”

You squared your shoulders and looked at him straight in the eyes, wiping away the remainder of your tears. “My soul in ten years. In exchange for you getting rid of my brother’s cancer forever.”

“Yes,” he confirmed with a patient tone that signified he was feeling anything but patient, “but do you know what _happens_ when those ten years are up?”

You swallowed, your eyes lidding slightly. That part of the book was seared into your brain permanently. “It’s worth it,” you answered determinedly.

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards as he read your expression. “Is it?” he queried, that voice rough like sandpaper. “How… _interesting_.”

“I _know_ , alright?” you burst out furiously, stepping so close to him that your chest bumped against his. He didn’t move, holding his ground as much as you did your own, eyes pools of hot blue. “I know that when my time is up, you’ll come for me. I know that you’ll _rip_ my soul from my body, and that you’ll drag me to Hell _screaming_. I know that it’ll be the most agonising pain I’ve ever felt, but you know what? Seeing my brother’s life ebb away is more agonising than _anything_ you can throw at me. Do you think that I didn’t research this to within an inch of my life? I know, okay? I _know_. But I’ve exhausted every single option that I have. I have nothing _left_.”

He was silent for a long time, and you felt your skin grow hot as you took in the extremely close proximity between you. You couldn’t help bite your lip as those blue eyes roamed appreciatively over your form, greedily drinking every inch of you. You repressed a shiver threatening to run down your spine.

“Okay,” he shrugged finally, like it was no big deal, and for some reason that buzzed angrily under your skin, making your jaw clench. “Just so we’re clear.”

“So, you’ll do it?”

He moved back, putting distance between the pair of you, and you couldn’t explain why you suddenly felt cold, or where the intrusive urge to step back into him came from.

He rubbed his hands together in a casual action, mulling it over. “Mm, no.”

You felt your stomach drop. “ _What?_ You can’t do it?”

“Oh, I can _do_ it, but it’s more your asking price that I’m not really satisfied with.”

You puckered your brow. “But... it’s not _my_ asking price. I thought you demons were the ones who laid down the law for crossroad deals?”

He barked a noise of laughter, his eyes shining. “Aren’t you a smart little _tick_. Yes, we are, but some of us have the power to bend those rules if we want. Namely, yours truly and his Daddy dearest.”

“Daddy dearest? You mean the King of Hell?”

He brought his hands together and clapped at you mockingly, making an embarrassed flush bloom in your cheeks. “Well _done_.”

You breathed sharply through your nose, choosing to leave that alone for now in favour of more important matters. “Okay, so you can do it but you don’t like the price. What is it that you want?”

He just stared at you, his grin cold and wicked and unnerving.

“Less time?” you prompted. “Five years?”

“No.” He was quite clearly enjoying every moment of this.

“Three?”

“Try again.”

“A year? Ten days? Five minutes?” you continued desperately, practically begging now. “ _What the hell do you want from me that will get you to save my brother’s life?_ ”

“You,” he answered softly, his smile corrupted and licentious.

You blinked rapidly, your mind drawing blank. _What?_ “Excuse me?”

“I want _you_. I’ve always wanted my own little human pet. Someone I can own. Someone I can play with, whenever I please. Besides, you’re rather interesting, much more so than previous humans I’ve dealt with. If not a little annoying.”

Was he absolutely insane? He wanted – _who the hell was he calling annoying?_ “Listen, you arrogant _dick_ –”

“Oh, feisty.” His gaze turned fond, his grin wistful. “I do love name-calling.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, exhaling harshly. “Look, I don’t have _time_ – what does that mean, ‘me’? How do you get _me?_ ”

“Souls are overrated. I want _you_. As a whole. As an entire human being,” he clarified, eyes flashing dark. “I’ll save your brother’s life, and in exchange you become _my_ property. Only _I_ can have you. Only _I_ can touch you. No one else.”

“That’s preposterous,” you spluttered, the tingling rising in your body even as you said it.

Not cruel. Not horrific. Not terrifying. _Preposterous._ What did that choice of word say about how you felt about all this?

“Those are my terms,” he shot back evenly, eyes drifting south to your chest again.

Your breath caught in your throat as images of just what exactly he meant flitted through your brain. “What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?”

“I’m a _demon_ , girl,” he pointed out with amusement. “We were born sick and twisted.”

“You’re sick and twisted, alright,” you retorted acidly.

“Ouch,” he gasped in mock-hurt, clasping his heart. If he had one. “That hurt, Y/N.”

You pressed your lips together in an effort to try and think properly.

In exchange for saving your brother’s life, he wanted you to become his. _His_. You would have to give yourself over to a _demon_ , and not just any demon, either: you’d be giving yourself over to the _Prince of Hell_. You would be his, and his alone, for the rest of your life, or perhaps eternity.

This was… this was _crazy_.

But… hadn’t you known that? You knew that there were risks involved with taking this route. You knew that you couldn’t guarantee anything from things that were beyond the realm of humanity. The biggest question was: _could you do it?_

After a while, you spoke. “I’m… I'm not agreeing to anything, but… _if_ I did…”

“Yes?” Castiel prompted, dragging that one word out in that rough, ragged tone of his. All the while he was licking his mouth in a way that was extremely inappropriate, but still managed to make your stomach coil hotly.

You cleared your throat, willing yourself to pay attention. “If I said yes, we have to seal the deal with a kiss, right? That’s what the lore says?”

Castiel’s smile suddenly took a depraved turn, and his eyes glinted wickedly. “You know, I just…” he kissed his teeth in a sound that disgustingly went straight between your legs, “I just don’t think that’s going to cut it, sweetheart.” He lewdly drank in your body with his hungry gaze. 

Your brows knotted in confusion. “What? But I’m positive, I know I am. I’m sure that the–”

He stepped closer to you, cutting you off with the low lilt of his voice. “Usually, you would be correct, but that's in relation to standard ten year deals. And we’re not sealing a normal deal now, are we?”

You swallowed, eyes flitting nervously across his face. “N-No.”

He gradually lowered his face so that it was in line with yours, his eyes hard and his smile easy. “So, like I said: _not going to cut it_.”

“Then how do we seal the deal?” you found yourself asking, trying not to reach for him.

His smirk widened to reveal perfectly white teeth, and he rested his top teeth on the plump outline of his lip in a way that made heat rush through your body.

You cried out suddenly, jerking against him as deft fingers abruptly found the apex of your legs and began to rub you surely through the outside of your jeans, the friction very much desired, and you had to force yourself not to lean into his touch.

“Does this answer your question?” he growled lowly, leaning over you.

“You… You want to – _ahhhh_ …” you broke off as he continued to stroke you in a torturously slow motion, the heat stifling under your clothes.

You moved your hand down to reach for him but he clamped his other hand around your wrist, suddenly pushing himself into you and driving you back up against the tree, your own body colliding forcefully with the thick trunk of it. His hands disappeared from between your legs and it made you groan at the loss, a fact that was not lost on him. Grinning perversely down at you, he instead placed them either side of your head, boxing you in and using his body to effectively trap yours against the tree.

“Let me put this in a way that you can understand.” He looked down at you with a smouldering gaze that had your knees turning to jelly. “I’ll save your brother for you. Hell, I’ll even ensure that he lives a long, profitable life if you want. Consider that a free pass to prove my… my _generosity_. But, I don’t want your soul for it; I want that  _just where it is_.” He punctuated each word with a soft tap on your sternum, making a shiver that wasn’t unpleasant run down your spine. “Right in this _delicious_ body of yours.” His leer was lecherous, even as his fingers traced light circles in the valley of your breasts. Your thighs squeezed together instinctively, and you bit your lip. “And in return…” He shifted his weight into you deliberately, and you couldn’t help the way your mouth dropped open at the feel of the hard, straining erection grinding against your own crotch, and he relished the pained, aroused look on your face before he continued. “In return, you become _mine_. My own little human toy. However I want you, _whenever_ I want you. And when I come for you, you had better be ready for me, _every single time_. If we seal this, you belong to me, and _only_ me. _For good_.”

“But, I’m human,” you argued back around a breath, apparently not scared in any way about giving yourself to a freaking _demon_. “I wouldn’t live long–”

“You let me worry about that,” he said, his voice melodic with amusement. “But if you say yes, that’s it. No going back. And…” He leant down to whisper coyly in your ear. “If you say yes, we seal the deal _my_ way.”

“Which is?” you couldn’t help but moan, his hot breath ghosting the curve of your skin and causing your flesh to erupt in goosebumps.

He laughed darkly and gripped your chin, not ungentle, to twist it to the left. “You see your car?”

A thrill ran down your body at the way he manoeuvred you, and your eyes took in the sleek metal paint of your car. You nodded, throat tight.

“I’m going to take you over to it,” he began softly, voice deep and heated as he licked the shell of your ear, “and I’m going to bend you over it. And I’m going to pin you down on it. And then… then I’m going to _fuck_ you on it. I’m going to fuck you so hard on it that you’ll be _begging_ me for more.”

You felt your jaw go slack, and you were ashamed to feel a wave of heat pool in between your legs, hot and sticky, but _Christ_ if that wasn’t the hottest thing you’d _ever_ had whispered in your ear.

“Get the picture, Y/N?” he said almost sweetly, punctuating his question with a sharp suck to your earlobe.

You squawked in surprise, trying not to dwell on how that made your arousal multiply by a thousand when this situation should have been anything _but_ arousing. “Are you _serious?_ ”

“Do I _feel_ like I’m serious?” He gave a sharp thrust against you for measure so that his hard-on rubbed torturously against your clothed slit.

You groaned in response, eyelashes fluttering; his expression swiftly became voracious and excited.

“And by the looks of things, you seem to like that idea, don’t you, Y/N?” His groin stopped moving and you flushed as a noise of disappointment left your mouth, only making him smile harder. “You’re actually getting off on the thought of me fucking your brains out, aren’t you? Are you picturing it already? Bent over the hood of your car, legs spread wide open, unable to stop yourself from moaning as I fuck into you…”

You avoided his gaze entirely, but the soft rush of breath and flush on the apples of your cheeks embarrassingly revealed what you weren’t quite able to voice out aloud.

Recognition dawned on his face and he laughed huskily, delighted. “Well, I must say, I’ve never had this reaction before. Who knew a client would be so eager to debauch themselves for me?”

"I'm not _debauching_ myself for you," you snapped sourly. "I'm saving my brother."

The look on his face was _infuriating_. "Tell that to the heat between your legs, sweetheart."

“And I’m not your client,” you bit back, furious and discomfited at the betrayal of your own body.

His eyes flashed wickedly, and you wondered how such a depraved demon could have such celestial-looking eyes. “No, you’re right. If you say yes, you’ll be much more than that.”

Despite your embarrassment, you stared at him with a scrutinising look. “And how do I know you can actually _do_ it? Save my brother, I mean?”

His eyes shone, and his lips curved into a cruel smile. “You’re just going to have to trust me, aren’t you?”

You pressed your lips together, silent. That was the million dollar question, wasn’t it?

“Come on,” he wheedled sweetly, pulling back from you and no longer boxing you against the tree. “What do you have to lose? Except your precious brother, of course.”

You didn’t realise you had punched him until you felt the pain blossom in your knuckles, and the sharp, biting sting made you gasp out aloud as you clutched your hand. Your punch, while it had been pretty hard by human standards, had done absolutely nothing to hurt him. He’d barely reacted to the hit, except he was now fingering his cheek and regarding you with a glittering stare.

“How cute,” he commented lightly, grinning at you in a sickening manner.

“You _asshole.._.”

“Mm, I do like a woman who knows how to be rough.”

“ _Fuck_ you,” you spat loathingly, shaking with fury.

“ _That_ ,” he emphasised salaciously, “is the entire _point_. You aren’t really that bright, are you?”

“Go fuck yourself,” you bit at him, pushing yourself away from the tree and storming past him.

“No deal, then?” his voice followed you even as he didn’t move, and the casual, nonchalant tone of it made your hands ball into fists. Fuck him. _Fuck_ him. “I guess you’re just going to let your darling brother die in his hospital bed, then?” 

His words made you freeze halfway to the car, and the image of the last time you saw your brother flashed into your mind. Then Castiel’s grinning face swam into your mind’s eye, and you clenched your fists tighter.

It was like trying to fight against the tide.

 _Check_ , you thought miserably as you turned back to face him, breathing loudly and glaring at him hard enough to kill.

He took a step forward, his hands open in a placating gesture. They were large, strong hands, the kind of hands you fantasized about having all over your body, and it pissed you off that, in this entire moment, _that_ was the thought that crossed your mind.

“What do you say, Y/N? You’re the one with all the power here. All you have to do is say _yes_. You say yes, and you win! You get to save your brother’s life, and I get to bury myself in between those pretty legs of yours.”

His voice and his words and his manner should have made your skin crawl with _disgust_. But, the truth was that they didn’t.

You knew your answer before you even voiced it, even _after_ he had even made that comment about your brother. Anything was worth your brother’s life. _Anything_.

Even if it meant giving yourself over completely to the Prince of Hell.

Even as that strand of thought flashed in your mind, you couldn’t help but feel how it didn’t seem to feel quite like a death sentence. That, in actual fact, to have those hands and that mouth and that body on yours just seemed more exhilarating than sickening.

That’s what appalled you most of all.

He was waiting for your answer, and the heated look he was throwing you was what finally spurred you into action.

“Yes,” you said simply, marching over to him in four long strides, grabbing him by the lapels of his trench coat and _hauling_ him into you, promptly sealing your mouth over his.

His grunt of surprise was overridden by a truly dark chuckle against your mouth, and the vibrations reverberated everywhere as he wrapped his powerful arms around your waist, drawing you into him and kissing you back, _hard_.

“Clever girl,” he grinned against your lips, delving forward to match your vigour with his own.


	2. Just Like Animals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: ALL THE SEX, YO. Profanity, derogatory name-calling (‘whore’), rough, dirty sex, I guess. Basically just hot, dirty fuckin’ (MY FAV KIND). 
> 
> Will come back and edit this when I'm not waiting to board a plane, lmao.

This was the single most idiotic thing you had ever done in your entire life.

You had done some stupid shit before, but _this_ … this was the icing on the cake. There was _no_ moment as irresponsible as this one.

Even though it had been made with the best of intentions, and even if it meant saving your brother. _Which_ , by the way, you had absolutely no guarantee that Castiel could actually _do_ , apart from his word that he could.

Maybe he was just saying that so that he could fuck you. Yeah, maybe that was the plan all along.

But then the memory of his wings spreading outwards and the shift of his eyes from stark blue to deathly black… No human had those characteristics (anyone who stressed that they did usually ended up in a nicely padded cell with people who spoke very, very gently at you), and you knew through your research that those things belonged to supernatural beings.

Okay, maybe he wasn’t doing it _just_ to fuck you. You supposed that that was a lot of work for sex. Maybe it was just a lucky advantage. Being the Prince of Hell had to have some benefits, right?

Wow, you really were going on faith here. You were putting all your eggs in the basket based on his entire word, weren’t you?

_You’re just going to have to trust me, aren’t you?_

Plus, you weren’t exact _adverse_ to the whole idea. His leering smirk and arrogant demeanour and lecherous gaze should have repulsed you and sent you running a mile away, but in actual fact, they just enticed you, drawing you closer, making you crave for those hands and that mouth to be on you.

Yep. Definitely the dumbest thing you’d ever agreed to.

Nevertheless, you couldn’t deny that it just felt less moronic and more electrifying, especially at the feel of that hot, insistent mouth currently on your own, shutting down all rational thought. His teeth grazed across your bottom lip before he bit down harshly on the soft skin, causing you to cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure. He grinned sadistically as he lapped at the tender area with his tongue, making you mewl against him whilst he roughly backed you up against the tree once more.

His hand moved to fist the hair at the nape of your neck, and he tugged roughly on it to tilt your head back, allowing him to draw your lip into his mouth with a groaning suck.

God, his mouth felt _amazing_. Was it ironic that a demon’s kiss felt like Heaven to you?

You couldn’t suppress the shiver that jolted through you as he licked into your mouth, hot and wet and unrelenting. A vibration against your lips informed you that he was growling, and you responded with a throaty noise of your own, your body heat rapidly increasing and the tingle building in the cove of your thighs.

Your fingers were snaking up to thread through his hair before you could even think about it, and you marvelled at how soft it was, raking your nails against his scalp. The action clearly pleased him, making him grumble deeply into your mouth as he traced your top lip with the tip of his tongue.

You sighed against him as both of his hands began to roam downwards from your head, feathering the line of your collarbones, tickling down the crest of your cleavage to cup your breasts, making your body tense with desire. It was a brief touch, and left you wanting as he carried on his tour of your body, fingers skimming across your ribcage and flirting with the bow of your hips, before circling around to find your back.

“Ca… _Castiel_ …” You involuntarily moaned his name out aloud, and at the sound of it he emitted an animalistic snarl, sending a shot of heat racing in between your legs.

The roughness of it juxtaposed beautifully with the gentle, teasing way he was touching you, learning your form through his hands, and it was quite obvious that he was doing it this way just to screw with you, just to get you all hot and bothered and begging for him.

Well, it was working, _fantastically_ so.

You were _aching_ for him, the need for more of his touch incessant and overpowering.

His hands were currently on the tops of your shoulders, palming the blades of them. You shuddered as his fingertips ghosted the line of your spine, skimming down the length of it.

“ _Fuck_.”

He huffed a gruff laugh, swallowing your breathless moans as he dominated your mouth with zeal.

You let out a sharp cry as his hands followed down the curve of your spine to smooth over the swell of your ass, and he unexpectedly gripped each cheek _tight_ , effectively pushing you into his hard, muscular body.

“Your _ass_ ,” he rumbled darkly in appreciation, kneading the denim-clad flesh in those dexterous hands of his, making you push back desperately against his touch.

It apparently wasn’t enough, as after a moment he repositioned himself so as to explore _through_ your clothing. Skilled fingers burrowed surely underneath your jeans, smoothing over the round flesh, skin-on-skin, and he grabbed your backside again with a loud clap and a pleasured groan. Your hand clenched around his hair tightly in response, and air whistled raggedly through his teeth at the motion, groping you harder.

“Who knew one little human body could be so _pleasurable_ to play with?”

You murmured something unintelligible, the clarity of it lost in the sensuality of his mouth, and you swore that if he kept on smirking so wide then he was going to split his face in two. You moaned long and low as he abruptly shifted and pulled your tongue into his mouth, suckling on it around a loud, rumbling groan.

You swore loudly when his fingers began to creep diagonally down from your ass towards the back of your sex, the tips just millimetres away from where you so badly needed them, and you squirmed violently in his hold at the need of his touch _just a little further_.

“I can already smell your arousal, girl,” he stated, voice hoarse as his hands dug into your skin, holding you still. “I thought you weren’t debauching yourself for me?”

“I’m _not_ ,” you huffed, colouring with embarrassment.

“Your pussy tells me differently,” he smirked, and you let out a gasp as his fingers flirted with the back of your sex, barely stimulating you enough for any kind of relief, only making your core pulse and ache a million times harder. “You’re just _begging_ for me to touch you here, aren’t you? To push my fingers just a little _deeper_...”

A loud noise of disappointment curled out of your throat as he removed his fingers entirely out of your jeans, choosing instead to smooth a hand down your thigh and lift your leg up to wrap it around the strong jut of his hipbone. Without prompting you locked it around him as he resumed kissing you, this time more domineering, with one forearm resting on the tree against the side of your head and the other gripping your thigh firmly.

Throughout it all he kept a dirty, solid grind against you, his erection prominent against your own groin, and you rolled your hips against his in desperate attempt of finding some release to the aching knot in your gut. For a while the only noises that could be heard were the sounds of smacking lips, low grunts and breathy moans.

Perhaps you unconsciously made your desire known to him, because he pulled back a breadth from your lips to ask mockingly: “Something wrong, Y/N?”

You swallowed hard instead of answering, pushing back on the bulge in his pants, the urge to palm at him real and overwhelming.

“Is there something you need? Something you _want_ , perhaps?”

You stayed stubbornly silent, instead choosing to let your eyes drift to take in his dishevelled hair, rumpled collar and his kiss-swollen mouth. Your body quivered at the sight.

He dropped your thigh from around his waist and glowered down at you, gaze hungry. “ _Say it_.”

You blinked, eyes snapping back to his. “Say what?”

He leaned closer to give a sharp bite on your chin, and you inhaled suddenly in response. “Tell me you want me to fuck you. I want to hear you say it.”

Your cheeks flushed pink at his words. “You want me to say _what?_ ”

He was deliberately setting out to make this as difficult for you as possible. Your pulse was thrumming faster at his request, and the way his lips shaped the word ‘ _fuck_ ’ made your own mouth water instinctively. You moaned again as he cupped your crotch, warmth suddenly surrounding your sex.

“You want to save your brother, don’t you? I suggest you do as I say.”

The persuasive lilt of his voice washed over you, the blue in his eyes practically mesmerising. It was like he was hypnotising you in some bizarre way, and your eyes were heavily lidded as you gazed back at him, mouth hanging slightly open. He could have asked you to rob an old woman and you would have seriously considered doing it under the power of his stare.

His hand began to massage between your legs, spiking hot pleasure through you, and your knees buckled at the feeling. You were suddenly extremely thankful that you were leaning against the tree.

“Don’t keep me waiting.” His voice was low and dangerous.

Your eyes fluttered closed, his hand still moving against you and cutting off your train of thought. Embarrassment flushed your face, and you bit the inside of your mouth before steeling yourself to fulfil his request. “Fuck me.”

His lips curved into a cruel grin. “No, I don’t think that’s how you wanted to say it. Try again.” One of his fingers traced lightly down the teeth of your zipper, and you let out a groan that seemed to come from every pore in your body.

“Fuck, _Castiel_ … just… just fuck me… _please_ , just _fuck me_.”

“Oh, well, if you really insist,” he answered casually with a shit-eating grin, and if you hadn’t been in such a desperate haze of arousal you would have probably tried to punch him again.

He surged forward to bite harshly at your kiss-bitten lips, languidly licking at them in a dirty, immoral way that had you keening for him. He gripped your jaw to hold you in place as he continued his ministrations, shutting down every coherent thought in your brain, disabling you from even being able to kiss back. His mouth soon descended upon your neck, licking and sucking and biting so much that you would have collapsed to the floor had he not been holding you up with the powerful line of his body.

You could feel the tender skin of your throat begin to stir underneath his attention of his relentless, talented mouth; you were sure to have bruises later. He was throbbing against you, and you grabbed the hem of his trench coat to tug him closer to you, needing to rub yourself against him like some horny teenager.

He chuckled, hand still palming you in small, circular motions that had your mouth falling open. Your grip on his coat tightened, and he removed his hand to slide his thigh in between your legs, rutting against you so hard you thought you would black out. You thrust yourself back onto him with just as much verve, and you could see the sick delight that crossed his face at the action.

You could feel yourself, wet and sticky between your thighs, the ache bordering on unbearable. The ministrations from his hand were making your underwear stick uncomfortably to your skin, and you squirmed underneath the influence of his mouth, breathing heavily.

You were panting hard, little gasps and moans filling the air as he moved down to give a long, rough lick in between your breasts, your nipples hardening with the movement.

Your mind was shutting down so quickly you were rapidly forgetting to grasp the entire situation, your only coherent thought being that you needed him, everywhere, _now_.

You must have said that out aloud, because he was laughing into your cleavage, and left a wet, open-mouthed kiss there before popping back up to kiss you with bruising force.

“I’m going to fuck you _raw_ ,” he breathed heavily across your lips, one resilient arm wrapping firmly around your waist.

_God, yes._

He lifted you up single-handedly, making you gasp loudly against his mouth at the display of his power. Without thinking, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips for ground, and he let out a low, pleased grunt at the action. The hand holding you cradled around the curve of your ass, in such a way so that you could actually sit in the crook of his arm. You couldn’t deny how both amazed and aroused you were at the fact that he was barely putting any effort into carrying you, before remembering that, given he was actually Prince of Hell, it would obviously stand that he had some supernatural strength within him.  You could hear the chink of metal as he undid his belt and pants with the other hand as he walked, coordinating himself almost as easy as it was untying a pair of shoes. You groaned at the notion that he was holding you in one hand and undoing himself with the other; it only made you slicken more.

He reached the hood of your car, unceremoniously dumping you on top of it in an undignified heap. You squawked in protest, a dull ache spreading through your butt as you connected forcefully with the cold hood. Sprawled along the smooth metal, you righted yourself to prop yourself up on your elbows, looking upwards, and what you saw made your heart stop.

Castiel was towering above you and his shirt was already unbuttoned, tie unravelled, revealing an incredibly strong, tanned torso. You felt your mouth run dry as your eyes raked down the hard ridges of his chest and stomach, the lines of his hips wonderfully noticeable thanks to his now open pants. You had the intense urge to trace every curve of his torso with your tongue. His belt and pants were undone, pulled down to mid-thigh along with his boxers. You could see dark pubic hair hidden behind his hand, which was currently wrapped around an unbelievably rigid, throbbing erection, precum beading at the tip. He was stroking himself loosely, his eyes closed and his head tipped back, mouth open in silent pleasure.

It was _glorious_.

“Oh my _God_ ,” you whispered at the sight, your sex aching.

His head snapped forward and he looked down at you with such a dark, intense stare that you felt every hair stand on end, a shiver trembling through you.

“Don’t utter that phrase _ever_ again,” he threatened in a growling voice, and you felt your insides quiver.

You nodded wordlessly in response, swallowing.

A smirk grew on his mouth, and he traced the thumb of his free hand across your mouth, still jerking himself slowly. “Obedient little tick.”

You gazed up at him expectantly, unknowingly leaning into his touch. Your nerves were on end and your tongue swiped across your lip anxiously, accidentally licking the tip of his thumb. His eyes followed the movement, mouth parting in a harsh grunt at the feel of your wet tongue, and his grip on himself tightened.

“I can’t _wait_ to fuck that beautiful mouth of yours,” he whispered hungrily, making your legs clamp together as he dropped his hand from your face, “but for now…”

You drew your bottom lip into your mouth, nervously waiting to see what would happen next.

He let go of himself and stepped closer, eyes boring into yours. “Unbutton your jeans,” he commanded, voice rumbling and rough.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you endeavoured to fulfil his request, feeling naked already under the force of his stare. His pupils were dilated as he watched you pop open the button of your jeans, and he licked the corner of his mouth as you pulled your zipper down.

“Good,” he praised you, his tone smooth and impassioned. “Pull your jeans down to your knees.”

You complied willingly, goosebumps rising on your body as you felt the cool metal of your car underneath your thighs. His eyes fell down to your soaked underwear, drinking in the blood-red lace, and he gave himself one hard stroke at the sight, precum pearling at the tip of his cock. Your sex clenched in response.

“Good,” he repeated deeply, more excited now. “Now, those pretty panties of yours.”

You heaved a deep breath, hooking your fingers around the soft material and threading them down to meet your jeans. An embarrassed flush bloomed in your face as you lay there, sprawled and half-naked on the hood of your car, but one look at the expression Castiel’s face made it quickly dissipate.

He looked like he wanted to devour you.

He slowly leant down over you, hands flattening on the car either side of your thighs, and you gulped as his eyes never left the apex of your legs. Your head fell back as he lowered his face down to within an inch of your soaked core, and your hips lifted clean off the hood with a high-pitched noise as he blew onto your clit, the sensation unreal.

He grinned lewdly, straightening back up as his fingers found their way in between your legs to tease your entrance, a satisfied sound rolling in his throat at the slickness of you. A noise of desperation left your mouth as you keened against him, planting your feet on the side of your car to ground yourself.

“ _Fuck_ , you’re so wet,” he groaned happily, the noise rumbling deep in his chest.

He slowly pushed his fingers into your soaking sex and you instinctively clenched around him with a breathy moan, making him grunt in response. Your hips were snapping up to meet his hand before he had even slid all the way in, and he watched you with sick amusement as you used your feet to push up against him, the relief immeasurable at the feel of his long-jointed fingers inside of you.

He didn’t allow you a respite for long, instead promptly removing his fingers before you could get any sort of rhythm going, making you moan frustratedly. He ignored you and held his hand up, inspecting the sticky slick coating them with a perverse, fascinated expression. Your stomach flipped at the sight of your wetness shining over those long digits.

His glance dropped to you, and he held your eyes for a brief moment before an idea flitted across his face. Still staring at you, he held his hand in front of your face.

“Open your mouth,” he demanded in his velvet tone, fingertips tracing wetly across your lips.

You felt a shiver trickle down your spine as you couldn’t help but obey, and his eyes shone wildly as his fingers breached your lips, disappearing into the cavern of your mouth.

“Taste yourself,” he said gruffly, breathing roughly as your lips sealed around his hand and your tongue ran along his digits, your own taste filling your mouth.

“All of it.”

You continued to lick and suck, eyes wide and staring up into his. All the while filthy moans dropped from his mouth at the feel of your soft lips and tongue around him, and he didn’t pull out of your mouth until you had licked his fingers clean.

You could see the rise and fall of his chest thanks to his now rapid breathing, and his eyes were heavily dilated. His cock was rock hard and the precum seeping from the tip of it was starting to drip down, the sight highly enthralling.

His hands suddenly clamped around your hips and he yanked you towards the edge of the car, making you cry out at the burn of your skin across the metal of the car’s hood. You had no time to dwell on the pain as he hauled to your feet and spun you around in a matter of seconds, only for him to push you back down onto the hood, literally bending you over your car.

Just like he said he would.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered you, his voice thick with lust.

You did so, eyes fluttering and breathing shallow at his command. You jerked as you felt the tip of his cock against your entrance, moaning softly.

“So wet,” he murmured once more.

“ _Castiel_ ,” you breathed, all misgivings completely gone. “Please…”

He rolled into you with one smooth, solid movement, and you both moaned loudly as he filled every part of you, your walls stretching to accommodate him. He was shaking as he held onto your hips like a vice, moaning, and you were gripping your car so tight you could have left dents in the paintwork. Little huffs of air left your mouth as you adjusted to the size of him, your body trembling as you were finally, _finally_ getting what you so desperately desired.

After a moment, he pulled back, the rigid length of him dragging through your sensitive walls, and you gasped his name again as he abruptly plunged back into you, pleasure spiking everywhere.

It was like a dam breaking; he started to thrust in and out, working up a dizzying rhythm as his hands kept you right where you were, fingers flexing over your soft flesh. You could do nothing except desperately push back against him, trying to increase the motion. You could hear the wet noises of him pushing into your heat, and it made your stomach coil tightly at the sound of it.

He was much taller then you, so every enthusiastic thrust into you lifted the heels of your feet off the ground and made the bones of your hips collide hard with the edge of the car’s hood. That began to ache after a while, but it was dulled by the unquestionable relief of Castiel furiously fucking into you from behind.

His noises were downright sinful: long, rumbling groans from right at the back of his throat, to gasps that were cut off mid-thrust, to low hums vibrating from the roof of his mouth, to soft little pants that fell in time with the rhythm of his thrusts. They made your sex pulse every time you heard them; his sounds were as arousing as he was.

Unexpectedly, the bruising grip on your hips relented, and he placed his hands either side of your arms so that he could lean down over you, never ceasing his movements into you, the sound of skin against skin rife in the air.

“Don’t you just take me so _well_ ,” he panted in your ear, rocking into you. “What a perfect little whore you are.”

“Not… a… whore,” you bit back breathlessly, pushing back against him and feeling him slide deep through you.

“Oh, yes you are,” he said tauntingly, mouth hot on your neck. “Spreading yourself for me, letting me in. I’m taking you from behind like an animal, and you _love_ it. _Whore_.”

You moaned loudly, his words shuddering down your spine, and you planted your hands on the hood of the car to thrust hard against him, making him groan in pleasure and surprise. Reaching behind you, you clasped the back of his neck and kept moving, drawing long, low grunts out of him that tingled everywhere.

“I’m just… saving… my brother…” you huffed in time with your movement. “Besides… if I’m… a whore… what does… that make _you?_ ”

“Your superior, girl,” he whispered fiercely, grabbing your ass with a sharp, stinging smack that hit you straight in your core.

As if to remind you of that fact, he straightened back up to grip your hips again, pulling you with him since you were still clasped around his neck, and this shift in position changed the angle he was hitting inside of you, drawing a long, dirty moan out of you.

“Yes,” you pleaded, head falling back against his shoulder, “Please… oh my – more, please – _don’t stop_.”

His laughter ghosted over the crook of your neck, and his hands squeezed your waist hard. “I told you I’d make you beg for more.” You could _hear_ the cocky grin in his voice, but you were too far gone to care.

One of his hands left your hip to curve down to your groin. The pads of his fingers brushed against your swollen clit and a loud, desperate sound fell from your mouth.

He grunted briefly at that, but remained silent, save only for the smacking of skin as he continued to thrust away, but then he draped his chest over your back and moved his thumb to rub it down your bud again, making you gasp.

“ _Castiel!_ ”

“Is that your spot, Y/N?” he probed sweetly, licking the shell of your ear. “Does it feel good? Are you going to come for me if I carry on?”

“ _Yes!_ Yes, yes – _yes_ ,” you panted, eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy. Whether you were saying it in answer to his questions, or whether the sensation of him fucking you was overwhelming, was uncertain.

He chuckled, mouth latching onto your neck as he began to circle your clit, quick, practised motions that had your body wind higher as the moments ticked by. He moved his fingers down to briefly trace the area where the pair of you were joined, and you wailed, your body tense with the urge for release.

However, the redirection of his touch had halted your building pleasure, and in desperation your own hand snaked down to touch your clit, but he quickly grabbed your wrist to stop you, guiding it onto the hood and holding it there.

“No, you don’t,” he growled savagely, snapping up into you. “When I say you can.”

You huffed a dry sob, all that arousal and heat driving you crazy, but unable to do anything under his powerful hold. After a while, you could feel his speed increase, and the pitch of his moans began to slightly rise as he gripped your hips so tight you began to wince.

“Me first,” he panted in your ear, manoeuvring you back down to lie flat over the hood as his body began to tense up.

His nails dug into your skin as he came with a raucous groan, pleasure rolling through every part of him as he released inside of you, stomach clenching with the force of his orgasm. You bit your lip, unable to stop moaning along with him whilst his climax pulsed through him. Eventually, he came back down, his hands slowly relinquishing some of the grip on you, and his hips rolled down to a small, rocking motion.

After a while, fingers appeared at your swollen clit, and you jerked in surprise, groaning.

“ _Now_ you can come,” he said, sated, fingers swirling around your bud furiously.

He kept his hips moving as his fingers worked you over, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. He sucked on your earlobe as your body started to tense up, your stomach knotting in that familiar heat.

“Ahhh, Castiel,” you moaned, “ _Castiel_ –”

“Come,” he growled, teeth on your skin. “I want to hear you finish.”

He thrummed your clit so well that it wasn’t long before your head fell back with a loud cry of his name, your body jerking violently as your orgasm hit you, pleasure wracking through your body. You were shaking so hard against him that he had to wrap a hand around your waist to keep you upright, but he didn’t stop until you were done, body sagging in sated relief against him.

He ceased his motions, removing his fingers from between your thighs and resting it against your stomach as he pulled out of you with a small hiss, you wincing with overstimulation as he did so.

You both stayed there a moment, breathing heavily as he held you in between his body and your car, arm wrapped around you. You could feel his release start to trickle down your thighs, and you grimaced at the sensation.

He gave you a small lick on your jaw. “You’re mine, now.”

The deal had been sealed. It was done.

You sucked your lip into your mouth. Yes, you supposed you _were_ his now; nevertheless, that didn’t stop the tingle those words created trickle through your body, though.

“My brother?” you asked demandingly, looking up at him from his shoulder with a bleary look.

He quirked an eyebrow, and gave a slow smile. “It’s been taken care of. Don’t worry your pretty little head, Y/N. I’m a demon of my word.”

Demon.

Oh, _god_. You had just been fucked by a _demon_.

You were _so_ going to hell.

Although if you did Castiel would probably be there anyway, considering he was the _Prince_ of it, and that was such a hysterical thought that you wanted to laugh out loud.

All of a sudden, you felt a sharp, searing pain just below your left hipbone, making you jerk against him with a painful shout. He just looked at you neutrally whilst you exhaled sharply, the pain soon fading.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded breathlessly, clutching at yourself.

“Just a little something from me to you,” he said with a secretive smile. “In honour of our… arrangement. While I would love to stay and degrade you some more, I have more pressing matters to attend to. I’ll be seeing you _soon_ , Y/N.”

With that, he disappeared literally into thin air, and you swore you heard the rustling of feathers as he did so. His sudden departure left your body feeling cold, and a small part of you ached for his touch again.

Remembering the pain from earlier, you looked down to see what happened, blood draining from your face at the sight.

There, on the jut of your hipbone, was an inky black letter, all soft and cursive, permanently branded into your flesh.

Just one letter.

 _C_.


	3. Emotional Rollercoaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No smut in this one, folks! This is more character--building, as I'm trying to build my plot here. Trying being the operative word. Next chapter: whole load of smut.
> 
> Thank you for digging Demon!Castiel, cause I was convinced I was riding this kink train solo. Love you guys.

The journey home flashed past your memory in a thick haze.

You _supposed_ you must have got back into your car after having redressed yourself, and that you _must_ have driven all the way back, and that you _must_ have made it into your apartment.

You just didn’t _remember_ it – your thoughts were way too preoccupied.

You closed the door of your flat behind you and dropped your keys into the bowl on the side table. You shrugged off your jacket and threw it over the back of the couch.

Everything seemed to be on autopilot as you made your way towards your bathroom, kicking off your boots and removing each piece of clothing, releasing them as you walked, letting them drop to the floor with barely a sound.

You entered your bathroom in just your underwear, the material ruined now thanks to Castiel’s seed. You could still feel remnants of the fluid, uncomfortable between your legs as you hooked your fingers over your panties and guided them downwards, stepping out of them with a grimace.

By the time you reached the shower door, you were completely naked, and you reached in to turn on the water while you gathered your towel, hanging it on the rack.

A moment later you stepped in, feeling the hot water cascade over your sore body, relief flooding everywhere as your eyes slowly slid shut.

You remained like that for a while, your mind oddly calm as you let the water run in rivulets down your skin.

You supposed you should have felt dirty. You didn’t.

You wondered if Castiel would keep true to his word. You hoped so.

You had had sex with a demon.

Hard, rough, dirty, _amazing_ sex.

The way he had slammed you down on the hood of the car and had had his way with you… The sound of his moans filtering into the air as he had taken you from behind…

He was right. You had _loved_ it.

In that instance, you hadn’t wanted anything more than his touch on you, and you had nearly exploded with deliriousness when he gave it to you.

But was that because of the situation?

Did you feel that way because you were so desperate to save your brother, and this was the only way you could possibly make that a reality?

In your heart, you knew the answer.

While that was initially your main driving point in sealing the deal with Castiel, you couldn’t deny that it wasn’t the _entire_ reason in accepting his offer, and so quickly too.

He was attractive; _incredibly_ so.

He was a demon with huge fucking black wings and crazy eyes that blotted into black; that alone should have been enough to raise every single alarm bell in your head. He was rude and callous and _unbelievably_ arrogant, and yet he was the most attractive son of a bitch that you had ever laid your eyes on. He was decadence defined, and despite the way his abrasiveness and sarcasm griped at you, you couldn’t help but feel the heat flare at the pit of your stomach at the thought of him.

And now you _belonged_ to him.

Your heart rate increased slightly at that thought.

He had wanted to claim you, and you had let him do so, willingly, just less than an hour after you had first met him. Should that have scared you?

 _Hell_ yes. It should have frightened you so badly that you shouldn’t have even had to think about it, but you just weren’t. You didn’t _care_.

Well, you cared, but not in the way you _should_ have.

You were now bound to him in an eternal contract… wait, was it eternal? Or did your agreement end when you died? Or would it cross over into the spiritual plane? Could that even be possible?

You mulled these things over as you began to clean yourself, taking extra care with the more tender areas of your form where Castiel had been inexorable with his attention.

Afterwards, when you had exited the bathroom with your towel wrapped around your body, you were crossing your bedroom when something caught your eye as you bypassed your mirror.

You came to a halt, backtracking to turn your head towards your reflection.

Your throat was covered in bites.

Your eyes drank in the dark marks all over your neck, beginning to purple thanks to Castiel’s overzealous teeth and the steam from your shower.

You stretched your neck to get a better viewpoint, fingers ghosting lightly across the bruising.

The soft skin was marred with an array of circular marks, as well as (you noticed with a flush) _teeth marks_.

Man, he had worked you over so goddamn _good_.

You could feel your body stir at the colorations that Castiel had so wonderfully bestowed upon you. The idea that they symbolised his claim on you made a pleasure shoot violently up your spine.

Almost as if it was an afterthought, you dropped your towel, taking in your fully naked form in the reflection of the mirror. Your eyes moved down from your throat to the now-noticeable marks on your hips, where Castiel had held onto you so tight you thought you would snap under his grip.

Your gaze swivelled to the purpling line crossing both of your hipbones, where your body had connected repeatedly and forcefully with the line of your car as Castiel had driven into you over and over again.

You fingered those bruises gingerly, the sensory memory of his heated palms on you making your own body heat rise sharply.

You gently pushed on one of the marks, a sick kind of satisfaction arising from the shot of pain that accompanied the pressure you applied on it.

Your hand fell back down to your side, eyes sweeping over to the newest addition to your body.

It was embellished on the very point of your left hip, an inch away from one of the darker bruises left behind by Castiel.

It was a beautiful tattoo, you begrudgingly admitted; all cursive and calligraphy-like. Very subtle. If branding someone with one’s initials could even be seen as subtle, instead of possessive and completely deranged.

You breathed in deeply, bending down to swipe your towel up so that you could get ready for bed.

After all, it had been somewhat of an emotional day for you.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were violently jerked awake by the sound of the phone ringing.

Groaning groggily, you rolled over into your pillow to try and muffle the noise, body protesting at the movement.

The phone kept on going, despite your hopefulness that it would cease, its high, shrill noise piercing into your brain and make you wince in pain. After realising that it wasn’t stopping any time soon, you sighed in annoyance, turning back and picking it up with all the enthusiasm of wrangling a snake.

“ _What?_ ” you snapped angrily into the receiver, not really caring who was on the other line, only caring that they had woken you up at…

You peered blearily at your bedside clock, one eye still gummed shut with sleep.

Seven fifteen. Oh man, this had better be _good_.

The caller stammered ever so slightly at the fierceness in your voice, before smoothing over. “Am I speaking to Y/N?”

“Yes,” you growled, throwing an arm over your eyes in an effort to block out the offending light streaming in from your window. “Who is this?”

“I’m Dr Winchester from Lawrence Hospital–”

You bolted upright, sleep immediately eradicated.

 _Your brother_.

“Yes?” you pressed breathlessly, eyes round, mind wide awake. “Has something happened? My brother, is he –”

“I… I don’t know quite how to say this…” Your stomach dropped at those words, and you felt time slow down. He had paused, doubt evident in his voice as he obviously mentally warred with himself about what to say to you. “I think you need to come down to the hospital right away. You’re not going to believe this.”

You slammed the phone down without even bothering to reply, not even daring to think about the implications of Dr Winchester’s message. Pushing his words firmly down, you leapt out of bed and focused on marching towards your closet, wrenching it open and rummaging for some clean clothes as quickly as possible.

Your body had already started to awake, and with that came the effects of last night. You began to ache and burn in places, some areas more tender and sore than others.

The thought of Castiel rose unbidden to your mind, making you freeze in the middle of detangling a shirt from its hanger.

_Did he…?_

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You rounded the corner of the corridor that led to your brother’s hospital room, heart hammering in your ribcage as you tried desperately not to hope, not to even entertain the notion that –

You wildly burst into the room, took one look in it and promptly stopped breathing.

A team of doctors were huddled in the room, looking at charts and x-rays and murmuring to each other in low voices, all looking bewildered and uncertain and completely baffled. You weren’t looking at them though; you were barely paying them any attention.

Your eyes were trained solely on your brother.

He… He looked…

Gone was the pale pallor of sickness, the lank hair, the clouded eyes synonymous with oncoming death. Gone was the skeletal frame and shallow breathing that only came with the kind of disease that gripped, weakened and then destroyed a person.

Instead…

His skin was _glowing_ , all renewed, full of colour and youth. His eyes were practically sparkling, sharp and focused. His hair was messily fluffed up all over his head, and he was laughing animatedly at something one of the nurses were saying.

God. It had been _months_ since you had heard him laugh like that. It was like hearing sunshine.

His body was rejuvenated, the muscles all filled back out and robust and…

He looked like he did before he started getting ill.

_Oh my God._

He noticed you at that point, and his entire face lit up. He threw the covers off of him with a shout, bounding out of bed and striding over to pull you into a bone-crushing hug that knocked all the air out of your lungs.

A week ago he couldn’t even drink water without help; now, he was moving of his own _accord_.

“Y/N, it’s a miracle!” he exclaimed excitedly, eyes shining. “It’s gone! My cancer’s gone!”

“G-Gone?” you croaked into his shoulder, your voice hoarse from the dryness of your throat. “What do you –?”

“It’s _gone!_ The doctors - they did all the tests and they couldn’t find anything – it’s the craziest thing but it’s gone! Completely disappeared!”

Your brain was having a hard time catching up. “ _How?_ ”

“They don’t know, no one knows! I woke up yesterday, it must have been the middle of the night, and I just felt… I felt like _me_ again–”

Night. Yesterday. You had been with Castiel at that –

_Castiel._

While you had been sealing the deal with him, he had done exactly what you wanted.

He had healed your brother.

Oh my God. He’d actually _done it_.

That thought was what finally kick-started your brain into gear.

You started hugging him back, practically clinging onto him for dear life, the tears flowing freely by then as unintelligible words spewed from your mouth. You could feel every muscle in your body relax, a beautiful warmth flooding through your body as all that dread and terror and despair and tension just drained right out of you. You cupped his face in your hands as you remarked just how healthy he appeared, how strong he seemed, and silently thanked Castiel a million times over for coming through for you.

At that point a doctor who made himself known as Dr Winchester (the one from the phone call you assumed) ambled over, shaking your hand with a smile, albeit a confused one.

To be fair, you didn’t exactly blame him. 

Nothing short of a miracle would have pulled your brother from death’s jaws, and that’s exactly what had happened.

If that miracle was dressed in a beige trench coat, grinned like a maniac and liked to leave teeth marks on people.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

You were readying yourself to shower, the day’s events both heavy and light on your mind.

You couldn’t stop smiling, your heart feeling like it would burst open with happiness.

You placed your shoes in your closet and were walking past your drawers when a speck of white flashed in your peripheral vision, and as you turned your head you noticed something on your bed that definitely wasn’t there when you had left it earlier.

You walked over to it, eyebrows drawn together.

On your pillow was a piece of paper, folded in half with your name written on it in neat handwriting.

Picking it up curiously, you unfolded it to see five words:

_A deal is a deal._

_C._

\----------------------------------------------------

You spent the next two days wondering when exactly you were going to see Castiel again.

It wasn’t that you were particularly bothered in seeing him again ( _liar_ ), but you needed to be an adult and thank him for what he had done for you. Although, you did wonder how exactly he had managed to find you; you didn’t exactly leave a forwarding address with him. How did he leave the note? Regardless, he might have been a demon, and an absolute asshole (one you were now bonded to for the rest of your life, apparently), but he _had_ healed your brother. He had given him his life back.

You felt some of that initial animosity towards Castiel ebb away.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” your brother laughed at you during lunch one afternoon.

The hospital had officially discharged him that morning, having carried out a million tests and being unable to find anything to warrant keeping him in the cancer ward. He had been let go, albeit very, _very_ reluctantly, and only on the promise that he came back over the next month for very close observation.

While everyone was overjoyed that he had made a recovery that they referred to as a sign from God (you mentally snorted, knowing much, _much_ better), they still had no reasonable explanation for the cancer disappearing, so they wanted to triple check. _Quadruple_ check.

You didn’t mind, as it meant that you could spend time with him doing all the simple things that you never realised you missed doing with him. Which is why you were currently seated with him in a diner downtown.

But even then, your mind was a little far away.

“Hm?”

“You seem distracted.”

“Yeah?”

“Got anything to do with those?” He gestured to the fading marks on your neck, and you blushed furiously, awkwardly picking at the collar of your shirt in a futile attempt to hide them.

He rolled his eyes in a way only a sibling could pull off. “Y/N, I wasn’t born yesterday. I know what those are.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said airily, looking everywhere but at him.

“Uh-huh. Is that why you’re so out of it?”

“I’m just… wondering what to get for lunch,” you quickly covered yourself, mentally wincing at how stupid that sounded.

“That might go a little better if you were actually looking at the menu,” he said with a small smile, clearly not buying it either.

“Oh,” you said, fumbling with the menu and colouring a fantastic shade of red, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Distracted indeed.

\---------------------------------------------------

Castiel dropped in on you approximately two days after you were called to the hospital, and, needless to say, it was when you were least expecting it.

Frankly, you were a little on edge thanks to everything that had transpired between you two, and not because of the terms of your arrangement, either. Well, not entirely. You still needed to thank him.

You were so lost in your own thoughts that when you walked into your kitchen you almost didn’t register Castiel leaning against the counter of it, head obscured from view as he rifled through your overhead cupboards.

When you did notice, you screamed loudly and jumped about a foot in the air, clutching your heart in panic.

At your high-pitched cry, he leant back from the cupboard door to look at you, grinning mischievously at the frightened look on your face. He had a pretzel stick hanging out of his mouth.

“You fucking _dick!_ ” you yelled at him, picking up a dish cloth and hurling it at him in a rage. “You scared the _shit_ out of me!”

The towel hit the shoulder of his coat with a soft pat, slithering to the floor. He paid it no mind, instead munching noisily on the pretzel and going back to whatever it was he was apparently searching for.

“You got any chips?”

You blinked at the back of his head incredulously. “You gave me a fucking heart attack!”

The cupboard door hid the way he rolled his eyes. “Y/N, calm down before you hurt yourself.”

Your frown deepened. “How the fuck did you get in here?”

He moved to quirk his eyebrow at you, breaking off some of the pretzel stick with a sharp snap of his teeth in a way that was actually kinda… sexy. “I’m the Prince of Hell and you’re wondering how I got in here?”

“I don’t care if you’re the President of the United States,” you shot back acidly, eyes briefly skimming over his mouth.

“Prince of Hell is better. Besides…” He winked at you as he bit into the pretzel again, smirking licentiously. “I get better benefits.” His gaze became hooded, and you felt your body grow hot as he seemed to mentally undress you with his predatory gaze.

“How do you know where I live?” you demanded rudely, skin prickling at his words and the memories that surfaced with it.

His gaze slowly dropped down significantly, eyes practically boring into your hipbone. He took another bite of the pretzel, the sound cracking through the air.

It clicked a moment later. “The _tattoo?_ ” you questioned incredulously. “ _That’s_ how you found me?”

“It doubles as a tracking device,” he clarified toothily, wolfing down the last of the pretzel and reaching into the cupboard again. He pulled out a packet of trail mix, apparently thought better of it and tossed it back into the cupboard, shutting the door. “Seriously, no chips?”

“You inked me so you could find me?” you responded, ignoring him.

“Technically I don’t need it, being the Prince of Hell and all,” he countered airily, the bottom cupboards falling open with a sweeping swing of his fingers, demonic power surging through them temporarily. He lowered himself to search for more food. “But yeah. Saves me time having to look for you by just sticking a tracking beacon into that pretty flesh of yours.”

“You tattooed me with a _tracking device?_ ” you echoed in disbelief, trying not to notice how nice his ass looked when he bent over. He had a really firm looking backside… and you needed to _focus_ here.

“ _No_ ,” came the muffled reply as you heard cans and packets being shuffled around. “I tattooed you as part of our arrangement–”

“Funny, I don’t remember agreeing to that,” you butted in acerbically.

“–because you agreed to recognise yourself as mine. The tattoo shows that you belong to me. Chips!”

Trying to quell the heat rising at the way he was identifying you as his, you crossed your arms and focused on his ass instead.

No, _bad_ idea.

You looked up to stare at the refrigerator.

“Nevertheless, next time you plan to brand me like a cheap piece of cattle, I’d appreciate a little warning beforehand.”

He straightened up, kicking the cupboard shut, a packet of Doritos tucked under his arm along with a tin of salted peanuts that had a pot of salsa balanced on top. “If the shoe fits, sweetheart.”

His blunt words made you snap back to glare at him, face contorting in fury. “ _Excuse me?_ ”

He made his way over to the refrigerator, opening it with a swift flick of his wrist. “You’re cheap.”

“I am _not_ cheap!” you exclaimed shrilly, highly offended.

He snorted, not even bothering to look at you. “Oh, come on. Are you really that surprised? You slept with me on the first date, didn’t you?”

“That’s _not_ what happened! That was in _no way_ a date,” you spluttered, face turning beetroot, “and you _know_ it!”

“You sold yourself to me and I fucked you on the hood of your car less than half an hour after we met.” He turned his head to smirk conceitedly at you. “Where I come from, that’s considered cheap.”

“It was –”

“No one _told_ you to kiss me, Y/N. No one _told_ you to undo your jea–”

“ _Yes_ , actually, _you_ did, _you_ told me to,” you replied venomously, realising how childish it sounded even as you said it.

“Still did it though, didn’t you?” he answered back softly, his smile wicked and arrogant.

It was almost like a game of chess between the pair of you and he was winning, judging by the heat emanating from your face. You remained silent, fuming and flushing dark, all that initial animosity rushing straight back.

He was such an _asshole._

Well, he was a demon, so go figure.

Relishing your reaction, he continued, abandoning the fridge and gliding towards you. “Like I was saying, no one _told_ you to undo your jeans. No one told you to spread those gorgeous, supple thighs of yours and let me have my way with you.” He laughed dirtily, his tongue lapping at his bottom lip at the memory, and the heat in your face began to redirect itself down south. “Perhaps ‘told’ is the wrong word. No one _forced_ you, Y/N. You did that all on your own. You kissed _me_ , remember?”

“You enjoyed it,” you shot back fruitlessly, irritated and annoyingly aroused.

“Of course I did,” he said in an obvious tone, finally in front of you. “But my point is…” he bent over to whisper in your ear. “ _So did you_.”

You bit back a moan, his words ringing true. “That’s not –”

“You can’t lie to me, Y/N,” he purred, voice smooth and low and so incredibly seductive. “I heard you. I _felt_ you.” With that, he moved back to the fridge, resuming his quest for food.

“ _I was saving my…_ ” You trailed off, body going rigid as you promptly remembered.

Your sudden silence must have intrigued him, because after a minute he stopped rummaging about in the refrigerator to peer at you enquiringly. “What?”

The slack-jawed look of absolute astonishment on his face was worth every goddamn moment as you abruptly crossed the kitchen, grabbed his tie and wrenched him towards you, swiftly kissing him on the mouth, lips locking together. He was completely thrown off, grunting against you in shock, but when your fingers raked through his hair and tugged as you kissed him noisily, he groaned long and hard into your mouth.

“ _Thank you_. Thank you,” you pulled away to murmur breathlessly against his lips, “for keeping your word.”

He was infuriating as hell and lord knows that you wanted to strangle him with his own tie, but at the end of the day he had saved your brother, and that was the most important thing of all.

You looked up at him through your lashes, stomach coiling tight at his half-lidded eyes, the fluffed-up hair and the way his mouth hung slightly open. It was a highly arousing look on him. To say you caught him unawares was an understatement. You had done a complete one eighty on him; no wonder he had been flabbergasted. The apple of his throat bobbed and slid down as he swallowed, the confusion and dazedness rapidly melting into a cocky, arrogant expression.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he chuckled heartily. “It’s called a deal for a reason.”

“I’m really, really grateful,” you whispered earnestly, still clutching his tie.

His eyes suddenly gleamed, and his voice was rougher than before when he responded with: “ _How_ grateful?”

Despite yourself, you blushed, and in a bold, brazen move that you would never understand doing, your free hand slithered down to softly cup him in between the legs while you gently sucked his tongue into your mouth.

“ _Extremely_ grateful.”

A symphony of noises was heard as he let go of all the food in his arms, allowing them to fall to the floor in favour of wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer, a low growl rumbling in his chest. The sharp crack of shattering glass reached you a moment later as the salsa pot hit the floor and exploded, sending red everywhere.

You mentally scowled, not even having to picture it to know that that was going to be a bitch to clean up, but Castiel’s hands were already on your hips, yanking you into his hard chest, breath coming out in excited bursts.

“Did you have to drop that? That’s going to be so frustrating to –”

“ _Stop talking_ ,” he snarled against your mouth.

You swore you saw a flash of black cloud over those striking blue eyes before his lips descended upon yours, demanding and voracious.

So cease talking you did.


	4. Grace & Lace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UGH. This chapter was so annoying to write. I'll come back and edit it probably.
> 
> OKAY SO QUICK LOW DOWN this chapter was actually supposed to be TWICE as long but I couldn't do that without my head exploding and ending up with a 20 page Word document SO I've split it in half. This chapter is the first half, next chapter is second half.
> 
> AND IT'S ALL GONNA BE SEX.
> 
> Yup.
> 
> Okay, enough talking, I'll leave you guys to read - almost time to watch SPN 10x14!

All hostility towards Castiel instantly vanished as he powered forward, roughly backing you up against the kitchen table as he continued to kiss you feverishly, your thigh colliding painfully against the edge of it.

You winced in pain, breath rushing through your nose, and he susurrated against your lips, hands rubbing you down in almost a soothing manner.

You didn’t realise just how much you had been craving the feel and taste of him again until his tongue was pushing through the seam of your lips and pressing into the cavern of your mouth. Your body reacted almost immediately, tingly and buzzing with raw energy, the need to get closer to him overpowering. Heat pooled into your stomach as he licked hotly into your mouth, and you surged forward into the solidity of his form so as to get deeper into his addictive mouth.

It was like it wasn’t enough; you needed _more_.

You fisted his hair and tiptoed up to get even nearer, lips smacking loudly against his as you felt arousal crawl ardently through your skin. Meanwhile, his hands were _everywhere_ : tangled in your hair, dragging across your breasts, gripping your hips, dipping towards your ass.

He moaned into your mouth as his hands smoothed over the curve of it, giving you a swift squeeze, and you swore against his moving lips. His breath shuddered over your mouth as he pulled back slightly to feather light kisses along the line of your jaw, making you swear again.

A small burst of warmth over your skin told you he was laughing quietly, and your skin started to prickle when you felt smooth fingers flicker across your neck.

He tugged once on your earlobe with his teeth, making your hands tighten around the fabric of his coat. “Interesting marks you have there, Y/N.”

“Admiring your own handiwork, I see,” you remarked drily, a weird wave of pleasure coursing through you.

“Like artists sign what they create, I did the same to you,” he stated insouciantly.

“You didn’t _make_ me,” you retorted, with a derisive snort.

He smiled infuriatingly at you, cockiness written across his face. “No, but I _unmade_ you, didn’t I?”

“You have an answer for _everything_ ,” you couldn’t help but gripe, colouring.

He retaliated with another tight squeeze of your ass, coupling it with a rough bite on your collarbone that made you swear again. “Such a dirty mouth, Y/N,” he observed casually, lips dancing over your skin. “I think I’m going have to put it to good use if you aren’t careful.”

“Ahhh – _Castiel_ ,” you breathed as his hand came to grip the back of your head so he could hold you in place while he sucked down the arc of your throat. “I… haaaa – _fuck_ …”

He unexpectedly pulled away from you, making you blink at the sudden loss. Your skin felt cold without his touch, a fact that you noted with just a hint of sourness.

“Kneel,” he instructed hoarsely, his eyes hazy.

Your eyebrows knotted in confusion as you processed what he said, but even so you didn’t move.

“ _Kneel_ ,” he repeated, more forcefully this time.

“What?”

“Are you deaf?” he responded sharply, agitation and lust steeped in his tone. “Get on your knees.”

“Why?”

His eyes gleamed, and his hands slid to the front of his crotch. You were about to ask what he was doing, but then he clasped his buckle, eyes never leaving yours as he did so. You practically creamed yourself at the metallic sound of his belt unsnapping, and he licked his lips as he popped his pants open, lowering the zipper in a deliberate fashion that had you salivating.

“Because I can think of a much better way of dirtying your sexy little mouth,” he explained heatedly, tugging his underwear down to pull himself out of it. He was half-hard already, and it sent a swift pulse of heat zinging straight to your sex.

“Oh,” you whispered stupidly, body rapidly reacting to the sight of him beginning to gently jerk himself.

He laughed quietly, continuing to pleasure himself and relishing the fact that you were watching him. Your clothes began to feel uncomfortably restrictive as he crooked his finger at you, beckoning you closer.

As if in a trance, you stepped forward, fists clenching and unclenching. He was so sinfully attractive that it made your chest constrict.

He just stared at you, eyes dark and intense. “Don’t presume that you possess any power to question me, Y/N. You _will_ do as I say. Remember our deal.”

He lowered his gaze, watching his own hand stroke his now fully-hard erection, and he moved his thumb to circle the leaking slit of his tip, making his breath accelerate.

You could feel your own breathing getting heavier as your sex slickened at the sight, and you were unable to pull your gaze away from his body. You wet your lips with your tongue, eyes fixated on the engorged flesh pumping between his deft fingers.

“Well, _technically_ our deal didn’t specify anything about me questioning –”

“So quick to sass me, aren’t you?” he interrupted you with a smirk. “This isn’t a debate on semantics, girl. Luckily for you, I know the perfect way to shut you up.” He shifted forward, eyes glinting. “Kneel. Now.”

Something in the way he said it tremored down your spine, and swallowing, you briefly warred with your thoughts before slowly lowering yourself down, your knees slightly protesting at the cold tiling underneath them.

“Good girl,” he commended with a sly smile.

He widened his stance a little, loosely fisting himself less than six inches from your face. You looked up at him, heart hammering and mouth slightly open, anticipation and excitement waving over you.

You couldn’t deny that Castiel pleasuring himself above you was one of the hottest sights you had ever seen, body taut and on edge as you watched him brush his forefinger and middle finger against the tip of his cock, spreading the precum currently leaking from it. The wet sound of his skin on skin was painfully arousing, and you swallowed hard.

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards, eyes trained vividly on your neck as you swallowed. “I told you that I was going to fuck that beautiful mouth of yours.”

He reached out to lightly trace a thumb across the swell of your lip, and you couldn’t help but flick at it with your tongue, watching with fascination at the way it made his pupils dilate. He stopped stroking himself and slid his hand from your mouth round to the back of your head, fingers weaving through your hair.

“Suck me off,” he ordered softly, tilting your head upwards so you could look him in the eye. “I want to come in your mouth.”

The speed at which that sentence made you grow wet was absolutely ridiculous, especially coupled with the now solid hard-on mere inches from your face.

You glanced up at him briefly, rubbing your sweaty palms down the length of your thighs before shifting a little closer, breath ghosting lightly over his cock and making it twitch gently. The material of his coat lightly brushed against your shoulders, and you licked your lips automatically as you steadied your hands on your knees. Your mouth fell open and you gave him a tentative lick on the underhead of his cock, testing the waters. His breath hitched as you did so, making your stomach squirm. Taking that as a sign to carry on, you flattened your tongue, sliding it across the underside of him as you slowly swallowed the crown of his cock.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he said around a sharp exhale.

You took your time, inching along the shaft bit by bit as you tried to adjust to the girth of him, careful to keep your teeth tucked behind your lips. You kept going, making sure to keep your breathing regulated as he eventually filled your whole mouth, and you made a muffled noise at the back of your throat at the sensation of his hot, hard flesh throbbing in your mouth.

His head tipped back and he released a satisfied groan, hand tightening at the nape of your neck.

“Good girl,” he breathed, voice soft.

A tremor wracked through you at the gentle encouragement, swiftly shutting down any misgivings you were having.

You bobbed experimentally one full length down his shaft and his body locked up at the movement. As you pulled back, you pulled your tongue up to trace the slit of his tip, precum oozing out at the sudden motion, and a low, gasping moan sounded above you. His precum spread across your tongue, heady and pleasant, and the knowledge that he was enjoying what you were doing to him seemed to resonate through you with a simmering warmth. When you moved your hand to clasp the base of his cock, you felt rather than heard the groan rumble through him, and it pulsed hot between your legs, spurring you on.

“I knew that pretty mouth was good for something,” he rasped, smirking down at you.

You could feel heat rising in your cheeks, and avoided his gaze. He chuckled, shutting his eyes and giving into the sensations.

You worked up to a rhythm, losing yourself in the taste of him and the sounds of his pleasure above you. You would alternate your technique when you thought appropriate: soft suckles of his tip that would transition into swift, hard sucks down his shaft; flattening and dragging and flicking your tongue; accompanying the work of your mouth with the tight fist of your hand.

As you fell into your pace, he would lavish your head with small actions of adoration very unbefitting for his character: he would stroke your head or run his fingers through your hair or cup the back of your neck; little moments of praise that would cause your body to glow warmly.

And throughout it all he voiced his approval verbally: moaning freely deep from the cavern of his chest, low rumbling sounds that rolled out from the back of his throat and bounced off the kitchen walls; sighing and gasping when you would abruptly change tactic, peppering his sounds with half-audible swear words that made you quiver.

“Sweetheart,” he laughed in a panting manner as he dragged his fingers through your hair, “you’ve been holding out on me. You’ve got a hidden talent for sucking dick.”

You made an affronted noise at the statement, but the buzz of your voice made him groan and he leant deeper into your mouth, cutting your thoughts short.

Sometimes it was difficult to maintain a seemly position doing this for long; the girth of him meant that you couldn’t close your lips all the way, making it hard for you to drain the saliva pooling in your mouth as you worked him. You would drool in a very undignified way, grimacing at how it would collect around the corners of your lips and the squelching noise that accompanied it.

Castiel didn’t seem to mind; in fact, he rather seemed to enjoy it.

He didn’t openly voice his opinion but he definitely noticed, swiping some of your saliva off of your chin with his thumb and sucking it off the digit in a way that should have been anything but hot, but even then you could feel your sex pulse at the sight.

You wondered what he would look like on his knees.

A fleeting thought of Castiel’s mouth between your thighs surfaced unexpectedly. The image of his mouth hot against your clit, eyes glazed over with lust was searing, and you couldn’t contain the moan that it raised.

The vibrations of your sounds resonated around the turgid flesh in your mouth, and Castiel gasped as his body locked up, hand tightening so much in your hair that it bordered on painful.

“Uhhhhh, _Y/N_ ,” he groaned, voice cracking.

The way he moaned your name was incredibly hot, and you rubbed your thighs together in an effort to dissipate some of the building friction between your legs. He wasn’t the only one straining for release.

His legs were tensing underneath you, and they trembled as you palmed them, feeling the strong pull of muscle. You tried to relax your throat as much as possible, sliding his cock in as far as you could go.

“You belong on your knees, girl,” he grinned breathlessly. “Those pretty lips wrapped around me, sucking my dick…”

You bobbed your mouth up and down, speed increasing as you could feel his body start to tense. He suddenly grasped your head, freezing your ability to move and choosing instead to hold you still while he fucked into your mouth. You shifted, a small noise lost around his flesh as you attempted to keep control of your gag reflex.

“Uhhhh, _fuck_ ,” he puffed, sliding through your mouth with a dirty, slick noise. “Fuck, your mouth feels so good…”

His thrusts were becoming faster, more erratic, but he kept them shallow so as not to choke you, which you humourly thought was actually decent for him.

He gave you no warning when he came. His mouth was open and gasping as he flooded your mouth with his seed, throbbing and jerking on the flat of your tongue as his sharp, salty taste filled your mouth. You breathed deeply through your nose to stop yourself from gagging, trying to frantically swallow as much of him as you could. However, you were unprepared for him to come so suddenly so some of it escaped out the side of your mouth, trickling down your chin.

He held your head still, thrusting softly through his climax until there was no more, and when he was done he slowly pulled himself out of your mouth with a soft hiss. You sucked in large gulps of air, your airway passage now no longer blocked. He kept you where you were with his hand on your head, tucking himself back into his pants with his free hand, zipping himself back up but leaving his belt open.

He then gripped your hair, tilting your head up so he could see the mess he had made.

“Open your mouth,” he directed, eyes on the white-coloured fluid dripping from your mouth. “Let me see.”

Obediently, you did so, dropping your mouth open so that he could peer inside. He groaned loudly at the sight of your tongue coated in his seed, eyes tracing back to the fluid where it had dribbled out the side of your mouth.

With a keening moan he slammed to his knees in front of you, making you jerk in surprise. He cupped your head in both of his large hands and surged forward to kiss you enthusiastically. He licked at you, gathering every drop of his come off of your face with his tongue and sucking it into his own mouth, and it was highly, painfully arousing to know that he was tasting himself off of you and swallowing himself.

You kissed him back instinctively, a perverted sort of pleasure arising from the fact that you could taste him on his own lips. For a moment you just revelled in his languid kissing, but it didn’t last for long as he pulled away with a feverish look in those ridiculously blue eyes.

“Don’t assume I’m going to disappear like last time,” he said lowly. “Then I had business to attend to, but right now…” He grinned like a shark. “I don’t have anywhere to be.”

He rose abruptly, pulling you up with him so quickly you were unable to balance yourself, so instead stumbled into his body with an undignified squawk. He laughed to himself as he caught you, hands gripping your biceps, and he righted you onto your feet again, chest vibrating with his amusement.

“So eager already?” he quipped.

You opened your mouth to retaliate but he promptly cut you off with the latch of his mouth and the dip of his tongue, making you moan frustratedly as you veered forward for more, berating yourself even as you fisted his coat to anchor yourself closer to him.

You jolted as fingers threaded themselves through the belt loops of your jeans and tugged you closer whilst hips rolled against yours simultaneously.

“I’m not even remotely done with you,” he growled, unable to control his excitement.

As if to punctuate his point, he picked you up with one swift, firm movement, making you squeak against him as he wrapped your legs around his hips, surging forward to trap you between himself and the line of the kitchen counter, forcing a surprised sound out of you. While it wasn’t unheard of for someone to be able to go for round two so quickly afterwards, it was fairly unusual... and actually kind of hot.

His hands were gripping the underside of your thighs, and his hips held you in place as he slowly rocked against you.

A sudden thought sprung to your mind, and you made a small noise, muffled against his enthusiastic mouth.

“I have a question,” you breathed against his mouth.

He growled in irritation. “Make it quick.”

“Shouldn’t we be using condoms?”

He laughed abruptly as if he thought it was the funniest thing in the world. “You don’t need to worry about that. My grace will protect you.”

“Your… grace?”

“All angels are made with grace, Y/N,” he murmured, kissing down the line of your neck.

You frowned, baffled. “Angels? You’re a demon.”

“I used to be an angel. Until I fell.”

You pulled back sharply to look at him. What? Wait, _what?_ “Angel? Come again?”

He grinned salaciously. “Oh, I plan to.”

You didn’t respond to that, too busy trying to process what he’d just told you. He used to be a _what?_ “… You were an _angel?_ ”

“A long time ago.”

“Like, an angel from Heaven?”

His mouth twitched. “Yes, that’s usually where they come from,” he deadpanned.

“Wait, back the fuck up a second.” You shook your head, trying to wrap your brain around this revelation. “You were an angel? Like with all the halos and fluffy wings and shit?”

He rolled his eyes in a very human gesture. “Less Hallmark, more biblical. But yes, I used to be an angel.”

The blue of his eyes were fantastically bright, and you remember thinking that there was something very supernatural about them. Turns out, you were right, because they were the eyes of a fucking angel. Or an ex-angel, as the case may be.

“How did you go from being an angel to becoming the Prince of _Hell?_ ” you blurted out, genuinely floored at this turn of events.

He shook his head violently, moving back into the junction between your neck and collarbone. “Stop talking.”

“But –”

“I’m serious, Y/N, shut up. I didn’t come over here for your sparkling wit. I came over here to play with your body.” He terminated the discussion with a sharp bite, making your thighs instinctively clench around him.

“No, no, you don’t get to drop that on me and not tell me!” you cried, smacking him on the shoulder even as your body shivered pleasantly once he soothed the tender area with his tongue. “And that’s another thing: how the fuck did you get into my house?”

“I’m done answering your questions, sweetheart,” he said matter-of-factly, before throwing a charming smile your way as he let go of your legs to drop you back on your feet.

He spun you around roughly, your hands slamming onto the counter to steady yourself.

He pressed into your back, warm and strong and so annoyingly tempting. You looked down to see his hands bracket either side of your own. His breath fanned along your neck and made a shiver run down your spine.

His hands turned upwards, fingers tickling the inside of your wrists, and you went to move them but he gripped you tight, keeping your hands flat on the counter.

“Keep them there,” he said.

You obeyed, body wracked with shivers as his fingers traced the underside of your forearms, making goosebumps rise on your flesh.

“Don’t move,” he practically purred, voice having dropped an octave from its already unbelievably low baritone.

You did as instructed, anticipation sparking everywhere as you awaited his next move.

His hands dropped from your elbows to bunch under your shirt, smoothing over the curve of your hips. He let them rest there, the warmth from his skin pulsing and heating your own.

His lips descended over the ridge of your shoulders, his hands fingering the top of your jeans and making you clench.

A quiet moan left your open mouth as his fingers snaked around to meet at the crest of your jeans, just above the button holding them together. Your breathing sped up when he unbuttoned your jeans and pulled the zipper down in a deliberate, teasing manner. All the while, his tongue was tracing the line of your collarbone, teeth plucking at the strap of your bra.

The urge to move your hands was unreal, but you forcibly redirected that energy into your backside, rubbing your ass against his front, and he thrust back against you emphatically.

You moaned much louder when his fingers crept into the top of your jeans, stroking the soft skin on the way down to trace the lace of your panties.

“You have a thing for lace,” he commented smoothly, tugging at them and making them brush against your sensitive clit so that you gasped, toes curling.

He moved away from your aching clit back up to your jeans, pulling the material over the swell of your ass and down to mid-thigh, leaving your backside to his appraising gaze. He said nothing, eyes raking in the pale blue lace covering your behind. At the cleft of your ass, the material was corseted, threaded through with white ribbon that was tied in a neat little bow.

His breathing had become harsh and heavy, and he was still and silent for so long that you turned back to look at him.

His eyes were locked on your ass, jaw tensed and mouth pursed, and you noticed that he was rock hard beneath his slacks. His fingers were twitching, like he wanted to touch your ass but didn’t know exactly how he wanted to do it.

You grinned to yourself. Well now, that was interesting.

You pushed your ass out slightly and spread your thighs wider, displaying to him the part where the blue lace became a several shades darker in colour, thanks to your arousal soaking the thin material. He let out a deep, trembling sound, entranced.

One of your weaknesses in your life was your penchant for lovely underwear – wearing good clothing made you feel good, so you would indulge yourself every so often in soft, colourful pieces that made you happy. To be honest, you had completely forgotten that you were wearing them, but as you were bent over in front of Castiel, you decided that he wasn’t going to be the only one who could have fun.

“Looks like I’m not the only one,” you countered cheekily, swaying your ass a little.

He answered you with a low, barely-controlled growl that hit you straight between your legs.

“Unnnngggg, Castiel,” you moaned loudly for effort, rubbing against him, taking extra care to brush against the firm line of his erection.

That propelled him into action, his hands clamping tightly around your hips and thrusting hard against you, making you groan for real.

“I’m fucking you with these on,” he rasped breathlessly, voice hot and wrecked.

He hooked a finger into the soft fabric and slid his finger down your ass to move it to one side, revealing your wet sex. With his other hand he swiftly undid his pants and pulled himself out of his boxers, rubbing the tip of himself against your soaked entrance.

He pushed into you solidly without preamble, mouth clamped down on your neck as your back bowed at the sensation, a loud groan escaping your mouth.

He offered no respite to adjust, hands sliding to hold your hips as he started up a hard, animalistic pace that your hips knocking against the hard edges of the kitchen cupboards.

You barely paid any attention, too busy relishing the way he filled you up, the memory of it a pale comparison to the real thing happening right now. You leant heavily on your elbows as he pitched himself into you, holding onto you for dear life.

“Touch yourself,” he grated, driving into you.

You didn’t need to be told twice.

Your fingers parted your soaked folds and you thrummed your clit eagerly, already halfway there. Castiel’s relentless thrusting coupled with your own fingers accelerated your pleasure twice as fast as usual, and you felt yourself cresting towards your orgasm quicker and quicker.

His thrusts were hastening, and he raised a hand to slam it against the overhead cupboard, using it to lever himself and thrust harder into you. You pushed back against him yourself, the need to come clouding every thought.

Your voice rose in pitch as you neared your end, and with a few expert flicks you came with a high-pitched cry, legs shaking as you clenched around Castiel’s cock, making him inhale sharply through his nose. You were lost in the throes of your own pleasure when he came moments later with a strangled yell, swiftly pulling out of you and angling himself so that he came all over the lace of your underwear, marking the pretty material with hot spurts of white fluid.

A weird shiver of pleasure crept down your spine as you could feel his release begin to trickle down the curve of your ass, and you couldn’t help but smirk.

“Does the Prince of Hell have a little panty kink going on?” you asked smugly, unable to keep the smile out of your voice. 

He chose to ignore you, hands dropping to his sides. “Bedroom. Now.”

You whipped your head sharply over your shoulder to look at him incredulously. “What? Are you fucking serious? _Again?_ ”

“I told you I wasn’t done with you,” he stated, a Cheshire grin illuminating his face. He looked hot and wrecked and aroused and utterly terrifying, all rolled in one. “I’m the Prince of Hell for a reason, girl. What I want, I get. And that’s _you_. _As many times as I want_.”


	5. Time To Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, I totally suck and haven't updated in over a month... MY BAD. Life is super busy, what can ya do?
> 
> Also, remember when I said I had to split this chapter and the last chapter in half because there was so much smut and it was too long? Yeah... turns out I lied. I needed to split it in three. SORRY. But more smut next time :)
> 
> This one you learn a bit more about Cas though so that's good, right? Course it is.

You blinked at him over your shoulder. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I am.”

“Castiel.” You gawked at him, not quite believing what he was asking of you. “We literally _just_ finished.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“Like, five _seconds_ ago.”

“What’s your point?” he shot back coolly. He was still hanging out of his pants, and it was immensely distracting.

“What kind of question is that? There is literally _no way_ that I’ll be ready to go again so soon,” you explained frustratedly, trying not to let your eye line drift south. “My legs are still shaking!”

Your breath caught when a warm palm slid across the inside of your thigh, and his smirk was devious as he cupped your skin for a moment, feeling the gentle trembling underneath his hand. Even though your body was exhausted, the heat from his skin spread through the contact, pulsing and setting a nice hum in your blood.

“Mm, you are, aren’t you?” His teeth sat on the tip of his tongue and he looked so smug you wanted to deck him. “Fucked you well, didn’t I?”

You made an angry noise at the mocking comment, despite hearing the truth that sang underneath it. He withdrew his hand much to your inner chagrin, fingers dragging slowly across the skin.

“What was our deal, Y/N?” he asked you, pulling back with a saccharine smile.

You let out an exasperate huff. “I know, but –”

“Bedroom. Now,” he repeated, chin tipping downward as he looked up at you through the thick fringe of his eyelashes.

You swallowed as you straightened back up, making a face as you felt his release heavy and sticky on your ass as you did so. He tucked himself back into his pants and zipped himself up, looking up at you and gesturing at you expectantly.

“I can’t,” you cajoled, shivering slightly at the sultry gaze being sent your way. “I won’t be able to get aroused so quick – mmph!”

He’d moved towards you and pressed his mouth against yours, swiftly cutting you off. It was getting a little ridiculous how well he could do that in the short amount of time that you had known him, and just how eagerly you responded to it.

“I assure you,” he said in a low, grating tone, “you will be by the time I’m ready to have you again. Besides, I have something else in mind first. We’re taking this one slow. Now…” He gave you a sharp slap on your ass, making you squeak and jerk against his chest. “Move along.”

You bit your lip as you cast a wary eye over the mess strewn across the floor and cupboards. “But… my kitchen –”

“ _Move_.”

The way he said it was commanding and sexy, and it seared right through you. It propelled you to start moving – you let go of him and moved away, one hand clutching your open, loose jeans so that they didn’t fall down your legs and trip you up. You peered over your shoulder to see if he was following you.

He was inspecting his hand, globs of his ejaculation streaked across it from where he’d smacked you on the ass. He looked straight at you, seeing you watch him. It seemed to excite him, and he kept his eyes locked on you as he slowly licked himself off of his fingers, making you groan.

There was something ridiculously arousing about watching Castiel lick his own release off of himself. It was fantastically dirty, and even with your recuperating body, it still managed to give you gooseflesh.

He smirked, cataloguing your reaction, and gestured for you to keep on moving. You begrudgingly obliged, wanting to keep on observing him.

You crossed the kitchen and entered the hallway to head to your bedroom. He followed behind you, sucking his fingers loudly for your benefit, humming around the digits in his mouth.

You shivered slightly at the sound, and behind your back he grinned arrogantly as he tailed you, trench coat swaying with his walk.

His eyes must have been trained firmly south, because he caught you unawares when he abruptly growled: “You have such a sexy ass - I fucking _love_ your ass.”

Regardless of the crude way he said it, the appreciation behind the statement made you tinge pink, a strange sort of warmth seeping into your chest.

“Gee, never would have known that by the way you came all over it,” you said teasingly, shuffling forward.

You shrieked loudly as he struck your backside with a stinging clap, the motion unexpected and yet not undesired, skin throbbing nicely from the contact.

“Just wait until I come _in_ it,” he said disgustingly, and you could practically _hear_ the filthy grin on his face.

You made a loud noise of revulsion as you reached your bedroom and strode into it with as much grace as possible when one was holding up unbuttoned jeans.

He followed you in, laughing to himself. “S’what you get for making fun of the compliment I just gave you.”

“That was not a compliment,” you countered with a snort as he pushed past you to inspect your room. “That was a crass comment made with your dick doing the thinking for you.”

“My dick does all the thinking when it comes to you,” he replied nonchalantly as he sauntered around, and for some reason that sparked a bolt of pleasure down your spine. “And it _was_ a compliment, if you bothered opening your ears.”

“No, a compliment is something like _your hair looks nice_ , or _I love that colour shirt you’re wearing_. Telling me I have a nice ass says to me that you just want to stick your dick in it.”

He stopped poking at the painting above your bed to turn to you, a huge, perverse grin splitting his face. “But I _do_ want to stick my dick in it.”

“But I don’t need to _hear_ that,” you chastised him with a grimace. “It’s gross.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed as he dropped his arm, his tone so sincere that you blinked at him in shock. His eyes were downcast, and his mouth tipped down in a thin line. He shuffled over to you, shoulders hunched, and it was such a drastic change of demeanour that you couldn’t move, even when he stopped right in front of you. “I forget that you’re only here because of our deal. I… should probably be more considerate of your feelings.”

Your jaw was slack at you gaped up at him. “Uh…”

“So, I… apologise, Y/N. You’re right. I should… um… you look radiant today.”

Your mouth just hung open. What the _hell?_

“I should probably tell you that… that I love how your hair falls across your shoulders and… um, your eyes are lovely… I think…. I think that shirt really suits you, and I… I…” He blinked down at you and you swallowed, nervously awaiting. “And I couldn’t give a _shit_ about all of that crap.” He laughed, his shy, awkward persona suddenly morphing back into a crude, arrogant expression, while his voice practically dripped with vulgarity. The weird, warm feelings that had been coiling in your stomach throughout his speech instantly vanished, and you glared furiously up at him. “Aw, don’t look at me like that. You have a smokin’ hot body and I want to fuck every single orifice you possess.”

“Ugh, you are so _vile_ ,” you told him, a disgusted look painted on your face as he brushed past you and stalked over to your window.

He chuckled, poking at the little trinklets on your window sill. “I just appreciate what I want to do to a good-looking woman when I see one.”

You blinked, the honesty and simplicity of that comment throwing you off completely. You doubt that he had even realised what he had said. You could feel your cheeks glowing, and you ducked your head to avoid his gaze as he hummed to himself, losing himself in the chaos of your room.

You shyly watched him swagger around your room, examining your random junk, picking up books and flicking at random items of clothing. It was as he was running a finger along the tattered edge of _Dangerous Liaisons_ when you suddenly remembered something.

“You’ve been in here before, haven’t you?” you asked him as he inclined his head to pull out a book from the pile next to your bedside table.

He nodded, inspecting a copy of Maya Angelou. “When I left you the note after I healed your brother.”

You remembered. You kept the note under several notebooks in one of your bedside table drawers.

“You just came, dropped the note and left?”

He nodded, reading absent-mindedly. “I would have looked around, but I was busy at the time.”

You stood there, fidgeting slightly, curiosity bringing forth the question on the tip of your tongue. “Castiel, how do you get into my house so easily?”

He ignored you, flipping through the pages, but you powered on. “This house is bolted, locked, alarmed, you name it. Yet you can get in and out without even breaking a lock.”

He slammed the book shut and tossed it back on the top of the others where he had found it. “I can fly.”

Your mouth dropped open and you accidentally let go of your jeans in shock, where they fell down your thighs, landing around your shins. His gaze fell lewdly down your legs, and you picked them up hastily, buttoning them up this time.

“Well now, if that’s what happens every time I tell you something about myself, I might have to tell you my entire life,” he chuckled.

“I wouldn’t mind hearing about your life,” you answered honestly. “I’m curious. I still haven’t forgotten what you told me in the kitchen.”

He stared at you, quite clearly mulling something over. “Tell you what, I’ll make you an offer. I’ll tell you something about me, since you’re so wonderfully intrigued, but in exchange…” His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip and his stare was smouldering. “I want you to strip for me.”

You nearly choked on thin air. “ _Strip_ for you?”

“You got it, sweetheart. I’ve fucked you twice now, and have barely seen anything of you. It’s a crying shame if you ask me. I wanna know what that body of yours is like without all the pretty wrapping paper.”

“But –”

“Actually, let’s make this a little fun,” he interrupted animatedly. “Let’s play a game.”

“A stripping game?” you clarified incredulously. Was he serious right now? “No. No way.”

He looked at you, a tiny smile dimpling his mouth. “You know whether you say yes or no I’m still fucking you, right? You just get to have a little say in it this time.”

A pleasant tingle sat in your lower abdomen when he said that, your deal still lingering in the forefront of your thoughts. “Oh so what, this is you doing me a favour now?”

“This is you getting something you want, and this is me getting something I want.” He licked at his teeth in a disgusting manner that had your heart thumping hard.

“I’m not stripping to learn one piece of information about you. I’m not that curious about the demon who is fucking up my life.”

“Liar,” he shot back, the veiled insult rolling off him. “And I’m not fucking up your life, I’m just fucking _you_. There’s a difference.”

You glared at him.

He stared at you before he began to lay the cards on the table. “How about this: one piece of clothing equates to one question of your choosing. No limits.”

You scrutinised him. “No limits? I can ask whatever I want?”

“On my honour as the Prince of Hell,” he said earnestly, arms spread wide.

“And you’ll answer them honestly?”

He made an ‘x’ motion across his chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, before chewing on your lip in thought. After a few conflicting moments, you said: “Has to include jewellery and belt.”

“Jewellery doesn’t count, and neither do socks. Socks are not good stripping material.”

“Talking from first-hand experience, are you?” you shot back drily.

He fought a smile. “I’ll let you have the belt though, as a gesture of goodwill.”

“Fine,” you countered with a snort. You highly doubted Castiel did anything out of the goodness of his heart. “But, you have to answer the question first, then I’ll strip.”

He shook his head firmly. “Strip first, then I’ll answer.”

“How about I ask the question first, you start to answer and then I’ll strip through the rest of your answer?” you bargained.

He ran a finger over his mouth, smirking. “Fair.”

Your eyes followed the line of his hand across his mouth, and you breathed in deeply. “But, you stop talking, I stop stripping. Got it?”

“You have my word,” he said mock-solemnly.

You regarded him heavily. “And you can’t give me half-assed answers, either.”

He held his hands up in a placating gesture that was almost convincing. “I would _never_.”

You raised an eyebrow disbelievingly. “Honest, full-length answers, and you have yourself a deal.”

He seemed to think over it, before holding his hand out. “Deal.”

You stared at it for a second before moving forward to gingerly clasp his hand to solidify your agreement.

No sooner did your hand slip into his then he tightened his grip and wrenched you into him, making you stumble as he fisted your hair and fixed his mouth to yours, hot and wet and messy. You were surging further into his mouth before you even realised it, and his lips curved against yours in a grin.

When he pulled back, you were dazed and breathless, and he smiled, showing teeth. “Let’s play, Y/N.”

“Okay,” you answered, a little disorientated from the memory of his lips.

He released you and moved past you to sit on the edge of your bed, knees spread, frame large and powerful as he followed the curve of your body with his eyes. You swayed a little on your feet, slightly light-headed thanks to him.

“Anytime you’re ready, sweetheart,” he grinned perversely.

“I’m thinking of a question,” you eventually said, clearing your mind and trying to think of how to word what you wanted to know, in a way that he couldn’t answer with one-worded replies. You busied yourself with removing your jewellery and socks, all the while thinking. After a moment, it came to you.  “You said you fell from Heaven. How?”

Talk about going straight for the kill. He inhaled a long, deep breath through his nose, glaring half-heartedly at you. It was rather adorable. You blinked at that sudden thought, wondering how a demon could ever be considered adorable.

“Because I was struck down for thinking for myself. God has…” He paused, raising an eyebrow as he gesticulated deliberately at your body. You stirred, having momentarily forgotten your part of the deal. Your hands rose to your shirt, slowly threading the buttons through the holes. “God,” he repeated, eyes watching your hands, “has a very specific idea for Earth and the future of humanity. This… image, is not one that I share with Him. It involves too much bloodshed, too much anger, fear. These plans were not easy to follow, and often they resulted in horrific losses, both human and supernatural. As I began to doubt some of the instructions given to me and my kind, God decided to make an example of me. I was captured and cast down by my brothers.”

He finished just as you let your shirt float down your arms and hit the floor; you kicked it away as Castiel’s eyes roamed the bare skin of your arms. It sent a shiver down the length of your spine, and a spark of energy ran through you.

“Next question,” he demanded, eyes rapacious and strikingly blue.

“How did you become the Prince of Hell?” you blurted before he could even draw a breath.

“When they threw me down from Heaven to Earth I lost my powers, my wings, everything. I was betrayed, hurt, and I had to adjust very quickly. I worked down here, doing what little I could.” You fingered the hem of your shirt, pirouetting as you raised it further up your body, revealing your stomach. The twirl you did made your hips sway rather seductively (purely accident, of course), and you inwardly smirked at the way Castiel had ceased talking and was now watching you intently. You moved again, this time flaunting yourself with a little more ease and confidence, and his jaw clenched, arousal dancing in his eyes. You coughed deliberately, his eyes snapping up from your stomach to your face. He continued talking, one eye on your sashaying body. “At the time, my grace was dormant – I couldn’t access it before Lucifer. He’s the King of Hell - he found me three weeks after I had fallen, and took me under his wing. He helped me reawaken my grace; he gave me a home and a renewed purpose and he helped me become the demon I am today. He raised me to be the highest ranking official bar him across the entire span of Hell. He allows me to do as I please, and with no question. He helped me release my potential, not supress it. He’s been more of a father to me than God ever was.”

You whipped your tank top over your head and tossed it away, nodding thoughtfully to yourself.

Castiel inhaled sharply at the sight of your torso now on display, eyes roaming over the curve of your hips, the dip of your cleavage and the lace of your bra, matching with the underwear. He was so enraptured with your body that he didn’t hear you ask the next question.

“Sorry,” he said offhandedly, “I was thinking about all the places I’m gonna put my mouth on your skin.”

 _Holy shit, yes please_ , you thought briefly, before shaking that thought away, hands moving to your belt. Castiel’s bluntness was kind of a turn on, if the heat in your stomach had anything to do with it. “I _said_ : what kind of powers do you have apart from fly?”

He stared at you with a kind of scrutinising gaze. “I don’t have powers. This isn’t a comic book, Y/N.”

“Fine, _grace_ or whatever you called it,” you corrected with an eye roll. Talk about being picky. “What other things can you do that humans can’t?”

He repositioned himself, fingers wiggling and releasing wisps of glowing blue light that floated upwards and disappeared in the air, catching your breath. “Grace is a celestial element. All angels are born with it, and it does many things. I can heal with it, move objects, hurt people, use it when I fly… I can fly but it’s so fast its invisible to the human eye. That’s why you never realised I entered your house. When I fell I still retained my grace. I couldn’t access it, but it lay dormant within me, until Lucifer helped me release it.”

The whisper of leather filled the air as you pulled your belt out of the loops of your jeans, dropping it to the floor with a dull thud. Castiel glanced down at it briefly, thoughts running through his head that had his lips curving wickedly.

“You’re making me hard, Y/N,” he commented with a bite of his lip, spreading his legs and palming himself, making your breath catch in your throat.

“Glad you’re getting something out of this, Castiel,” you said shrewdly, skin prickling at the sight. He looked stupidly hot when he did that and it got on your nerves.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said casually, eyes fixated on your breasts as he rubbed a little harder, “something tells me I’m not the only one.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, bite me.”

He grinned. “Oh, I plan to. Keep going.”

“If you didn’t agree to God’s idea, why did you become a demon? It’s not like _that_ pathway isn’t riddled with bloodshed.” Your hands slipped down to grasp the top of your jeans as you finished your question.

“Because this bloodshed is on _my_ terms.” You popped open the button of your jeans. “ _I_ decide if I want to shed blood, exact revenge, be violent to someone.” You drew the zipper down. “ _I_ decide who dies, who doesn’t, who’s damned, who sheds how much blood; _I_ decide. Not some egotistical deity who creates children just so He can condemn them, all for the purpose of them proving their love for Him for entry into Heaven. At least I’m honest in my actions and don’t hide them for what they truly are.”

Well… you couldn’t exactly fault with that logic, but that didn’t mean you necessarily agreed with it. Regardless, it was Castiel’s opinion, and you catalogued it away with everything else he was telling you as you shimmied out of your jeans, the faded material falling and pooling around your ankles.

You couldn’t fight the tiny smile a low moan escaped out of Castiel’s hanging mouth, and you stepped out of your jeans, leaving you in just your underwear.

The way he was drinking your form in like a man dying of thirst was doing all sorts of things to your self-esteem, and you scrutinised him carefully as you ran your hands down the curve of your waist to settle on your hips. His hand went to his cock again, and he cupped himself once more, thighs tensing.

“You have no idea of the things I want to do to you right now,” he said, voice scraping.

“It’ll have to wait; we have a deal and I still have two questions left,” you replied, a tad smug.

He growled at that, hand gripping the material of his pants in a tight hold. “Then I suggest,” he began through gritted teeth, a barely concealed effort to control himself, “that you finish them, and _quickly_.”

It seemed like Castiel was having a little trouble controlling his arousal, and damn, if that didn’t make a warm glow settle nicely through your body. It was immensely satisfying to see that you affected him as much as he affected you.

You knew that you would need time to mull over the things he was telling you, but your curiosity was currently dulled by the electricity sparking between the two of you the more this carried on. Annoyingly enough, he was right: your body was rapidly recovering and you could feel yourself gradually start to ache for him again.

Lord knew where the sudden confidence came from, but you found yourself gliding over to him with a sultry gaze, and he watched you with a curious eye as you sauntered over and placed either hand firmly on his shoulders, levering yourself up to kneel above him, each leg on either side of his thighs.

“What–What are you doing?” he asked warily, hands rising to touch you even as he spoke.

You slapped his hands away with a sharp snap of your wrist and he suddenly frowned, not liking that. “You said either way you were going to fuck me, but that this time I had a little say in it. Well, this is me having a say in it,” you stated matter-of-factly, shifting slightly in his lap.

“Which is?” he prompted, eyes drifting down to the curve of your neck.

“That I get to tease you a little. Call it a little payback for making me flounce around in front of you like some stripper.”

That drew a sly smile out of him. “Like you haven’t done this before, the way you’re shaking your body.”

“No touching, until the last of my clothes comes off,” you said, ignoring his subtle tease for more information, “but that doesn’t mean that I can’t touch _you_.”

“By all means, darling, you touch me as much as you fucking want,” he replied hungrily, grinning up at you as you loomed over him.

As if to prove a point, you reached down between your legs to cup him firmly, and you felt him twitch against you, his hands gripping the duvet he was sitting on.

“Do you miss being an angel and being in Heaven?” you asked gently, pulling down his zipper and dipping your hand inside.

“That could be seen as two questions,” he responded idly, glancing up at you with a smouldering heat.

You heard the slight tremor in his voice and mentally cheered. You had him right where you wanted him.

“It could. It wasn’t,” you shot back just as nonchalantly, hand weaving through the fabric of his boxers to grip him, pleasantly surprised to find him rock hard, skin sticky and damp with your previous encounters.

It briefly crossed your mind that most men weren’t able to get it up so quickly like he was able to, but you chalked it down to a mix of his demon-ness and the nature of the situation.

After a moment of thinking about it, he stared up at you. “I don’t know.”

He didn’t delve any further, and your eyebrows furrowed before you gave him a swift squeeze, making a wrecked sound bubble in his throat as he pitched against you. “I mean, I guess I do, in a way,” he hurried, voice hitching as you began to stroke him, and his grasp of the duvet grew tighter. “It’s all I knew for a long time. I spent millennia as an angel, I was present for the creation of Earth and mankind.” He raised his eyebrows, impressed, as you reached behind your back and unsnapped your bra one-handed. His words came faster then. “Heaven is… Heaven. It’s paradise. But things change, and as a demon…” His eyes were glazed over as you removed your hand from his underwear to guide the straps of your bra down your shoulders, looking at him intently. “As an angel it’s always about the greater good, about doing things for others, but as a demon… you can do things for _you_. You can make people do things for you. Do you know how much _fun_ it is to sin?”

“Yes,” you answered simply, pulling your bra clean off of you and dropping it to the side.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Castiel burst out, eyes wide in appreciation at your now bare breasts, and his hands shot up to cup them before he hastily remembered your condition and reluctantly lowered them again, swallowing hard as he stared at your chest. “Y/N, you’re _killing_ me here,” he moaned in frustration.

“That’s the point,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and deliberately pressing your breasts against the solid weight of his chest.

He groaned; deep and rough and desperate, and it only spurred you further.

“Last question,” you said lowly, close enough to kiss him.

“Thank fuck,” he snarled. “Ask me so I can roll you over and fuck your brains out.”

“You could do that right now, if you wanted.”

“I could, but I’m a demon of my word.”

For some reason that made you smile, and you leant even closer, barely brushing your lips against his. “Why do you let me come?”

 _That_ drew his entire attention to you; he moved back sharply to look at you, eyebrows knotted together. “Excuse me?”

“Why do you let me come?” you repeated. “You have my word from the get-go; our deal is sealed. I’m yours now, if I try to get out of it you’d probably reverse my brother’s health back.”

Castiel opened his mouth to argue, but shut it again with a casual shrug of the shoulders. It was true.

“So, you essentially have me wrapped around your finger. You could use me, abuse me, you could fuck me and leave. You could do what you want, but you make sure I come as well. Why?”

“That’s your last question?” he asked you dubiously.

You shrugged. “I’m curious.”

“Because fucking you isn’t enough,” he answered. You stepped off of him to stand in front of his sitting form, and he watched you closely as you threaded your fingers into the lace of your underwear. “Most demons think that making a human lie with them is forcing that human to the lowest that they can go. It’s not true. The true degradation lies in bringing that human to the highest point of pleasure with them.” You twirled around and popped your ass out as you slowly lowered your ruined underwear over the curve of your butt, eliciting a delightful groan from Castiel. “The lowest a human can go with a demon is to scrape the bottom of the barrel, and feel the ultimate pleasure doing it. I make you come to make sure you feel the highest pleasure possible along with me. Your words might lie, but your body sure doesn’t. You can’t hide the truth from me when you come. Despite your protests and your snide remarks, you enjoy it too. _That’s_ why I let you come. Because you want it just as much as I do.”

There was a faint rustle of fabric as your underwear hit the ground, but you moved before Castiel did, spinning around and climbing back on top of him, catching his lips with your own.

“Thank you,” you said softly, guiding his hand in between your thighs to your wet, aching sex. “Now: _fuck me_.”

“ _With pleasure_ ,” he whispered back eagerly, eyes sparking with black.


	6. Slick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knooooooooooow. Sooooorrry.

 

Electricity coursed through you at the sight of emotionless, black eyes, and he surged forward, kissing you so passionately you almost fell off of his lap until you felt a powerful arm wrap around your waist and haul you back into his tight, rigid body. The hand you had directed in between your legs began to eagerly move of its own accord, tracing the line of your outer lips, making your breath stutter against his mouth.

“Spread your legs further,” he instructed hoarsely, thumb brushing your clit as his other hand slid up the back of your thigh.

You obeyed him with a moan, opening your legs further apart and gripping his hair in bliss as he pushed two fingers through your drenched entrance, making you clench around the sudden intrusion. He relished the noises of pleasure that fell from your lips as relief washed over you now that he was finally touching you properly.

“Your grace helps with your stamina, doesn’t it?” you asked on a rush, hips rolling against his ministrations with a whimpering sound as he began to finger-fuck you.

“Clever girl,” he answered, mouthing down the curve of your neck, “but I don’t need my grace to keep it up for so long.”

“No?” You bit your lip as his thumb began to move in broad, lazy circles against your clit, and you felt your thighs tremble.

“Not with you.” He was sucking raw kisses down your sternum now, body tense and alert with arousal. His hand was still working in between your legs, and you could feel your body winding higher to release. “I could be human and go all night with a girl like you.”

The statement caught you by surprise, and you let out a sound as he withdrew his hand entirely, fingers moving to your other thigh and leaving damp streaks across your flesh, your body beginning to ache with the need to come. His eyes were blue again, but barely; they were heavily dilated with his arousal and it sent a prickle of heat zinging through you.

He gripped you with both hands and pulled your legs around him, wrapping them around his hips. This left your aching sex to grind against his clothed hard-on, and you couldn’t help a little mewl as you rubbed yourself against him for some friction.

“What do you mean?” you asked breathlessly, using his shoulders to anchor yourself.

“I mean–” He licked in one long stroke down between both of your breasts, thrusting upwards against you and making you gasp, “that you’ve got the kind of body that could make an angel sin, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” you sighed, pleasure splintering through your form at the veiled compliment.

Considering he actually used to be an angel, perhaps that statement wasn’t wholly untrue. It gave you a warm, confident feeling deep in your chest at the thought of it, despite it probably being the opposite of Castiel’s intended meaning.

You groaned loudly as he took one of your breasts in his mouth, sucking and licking enthusiastically as he pitched his erection against your wet slit, dampening the fabric of his still open pants. You panted his name again, and he let out an animalistic noise around your breast, a hand moving to the back of your shoulder in an effort to push you down harder on him.

Your head fell back to grant him more access to your chest, and your hands slid upwards to fist his hair tightly, earning yourself a sharp hiss before he promptly rolled you onto your back, a low, growling noise vibrating in the back of his throat as your skin hit the soft material of your bed.

Your nakedness, coupled with Castiel’s body melding frantically against your own, set fire in your blood, the juxtaposition of skin on fabric making you pulse harder between your legs. Castiel’s mouth was currently latched onto a nipple – he seemed rather enamoured with your breasts at the moment, perhaps making the most of having never seen them bare before – and his thigh was firmly between your own as he rutted energetically against you. You could feel the dampness in the front of his slacks where your own body had leaked on him, and the thought made your throat close tight.

“Definitely prefer you naked,” he muttered against your flesh, tugging on your nipple with his teeth.

“Are you going to return the favour?” You gasped at the sensation, dying of curiosity.

He abruptly let go of your skin and glanced up to stare at you, an eyebrow raised.

“It’s only fair,” you added complacently, a part of you hoping that he would comply.

He seemed to contemplate it, and for one moment you thought he would say no before he suddenly smirked, sitting up, and in the blink of an eye he was as naked as you were.

You blinked, flabbergasted, because he hadn’t even _moved_. One second he had been fully clothed, and the next he had no clothes on. How the fuck did he _do_ that?

“My grace can do much more than you can imagine,” he said by way of answer, egotistical and proud at the flabbergasted expression on your face.

Your mouth ran dry as you took in everything: the solid line of his torso, the broad plane of his shoulders, the curve of his biceps, the strong muscle of his thighs, the arc of his hips, his sensuous hands, the heavy weight of his cock standing at attention, and you had to squeeze your thighs tightly together to alleviate some of the sudden pressure.

“Holy fuck,” you said, awestruck and severely turned on.

Castiel was not unattractive in any way, shape or form; he was _gorgeous_.

If you were being completely honest with yourself, had you not met him under such ridiculous circumstances he would be _exactly_ the type of guy you would go for (aesthetically speaking, of course – his personality had holes in it bigger than the damn Grand Canyon). In fact, it was _highly_ irritating to find that he looked so fucking good, and you could do nothing but gawk at him while he watched you, smirking arrogantly as you practically drooled over him.

“Like what you see?”

You nodded mutely, the sight of him having struck you dumb. He looked down at himself, cock erect and skin burning, and then glanced up at you through his lashes as he reached down to give himself one long, hard stroke.

You couldn’t help it; you moaned at the wonderful sight. “Oh, G– fucking hell – _Castiel, just_ … fuck me, please.” You knew how it came out, how needy it sounded, and _who_ you were saying it to, but you seriously couldn’t care less right now, your arousal doing all the talking for you.

“Look at that,” he murmured, voice smooth and sultry, “I didn’t even have to order you to say it this time. You’re learning, Y/N.”

He released himself and rested his hands on both of your knees, which had closed when he had moved away from you. He gently pushed them apart, opening you back up, and his gaze fell to your wet, pulsing sex.

You let out something akin to a whine as he looked back up to you, eyes flashing wickedly, and he held your gaze as he bent down to briefly flick your clit with the tip of his tongue, as tender and light as a kiss, the action fleeting and not enough and unleashing a vast amount of arousal within you.

The earlier, sexy as fuck image of Castiel’s head between your thighs barrelled to the forefront of your mind, and you moaned his name louder than you had ever done before, the need for his mouth on you unreal and overwhelming. You tried to pull him into the cove of your legs, but his laughter was cruel and dark as he pulled away, and you practically screamed in frustration as he moved upwards, his mouth scouring hot, wet, open kisses across your pubic bone to nip at the tattoo he had left on you.

“Mine,” he said almost conversationally, the double meaning of that statement hanging in the air.

You parried that with a moan, a thrill curving down your spine regardless, and he lowered himself to rest his full weight against you. You bit your lip in ecstasy, the feel of his naked body heavy on your own. His cock was hard against the inside of your thigh, and when you shifted he thrust shallowly against you, making air whistle through your teeth.

“You know what I love about your body?” he asked against the curve of your skin.

“No, but I have a feeling you’re about to tell me anyway,” you replied sarcastically, your irritation at being denied his mouth on your sex seeping into your tone. 

You squeaked in surprise when he suddenly slapped you sharply on the ass, not expecting that at all.

“Don’t be so insolent,” he admonished. “You won’t like the consequences.”

You pressed your lips together, having suddenly felt like a child being told off by a parent or a student being reprimanded by a teacher.

“What I love about your body,” he carried on like you hadn’t interrupted him, “is how wonderfully _receptive_ it is to me.”

You quivered as he began to run his hands down the length of your body, mouth dropping to lick playfully at your ear.

“The way your heart beats faster…” he murmured, thumbing a nipple and making you groan softly.

“The way your skin trembles underneath my touch…” He moved to suckle on the junction between your neck and your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but let your head fall back to grant him more access.

He chuckled against your skin, and your knees separated further so he could lay easily between them. “The way your legs fall open easily to let me in…” His fingers flirted down the curve of your torso and you felt yourself shiver all over, his words seeping through every pore.

“How wet you are for me…” He chuckled at this, like it was a dirty joke only he knew the ending of.

You inhaled sharply as he reached down to rub his head along your entrance, causing a fresh wave of liquid heat to hit you in your core.

“I’ve fucked you enough to know what you want. And despite you protesting, you want me. You just don’t want to admit it to yourself. But you will. In time.” He punctuated his point with a solid roll of his hips, sliding into you with ease and making you gasp out loud.

Your nails left grooves in his skin as you scratched at his back, body locking in pleasure at the feel of his girth stretching you open. He gripped your thighs and wrapped them around the bow of his hips as he began to move; powerful thrusts that began to pick up speed, and you couldn’t stop the flurry of moans from your mouth as he took exactly what he wanted from you.

Your bed began to creak and groan from the movement, but it barely registered in your mind as you squirmed and rolled against the hard line of Castiel’s body, drenched in sweat and feverish with excitement.

“Already so close, aren’t you, girl?” Castiel growled in your ear, hands hot and heavy around the bow of your hips.

You answered with a mewl, clutching at him for dear life.

“Your pussy is already pulsing, girl. You’re so close to the edge that you’re going to explode, aren’t you?”

“ _Yes_ ,” you said passionately, thigh moving up to hook over the smooth, tight curve of his ass.

He promptly pulled out and flipped you over onto your stomach, the world spinning sharply. You barely had time to contemplate what had happened before he was sitting up on his knees, hands pulling you with him so that you were knelt in front of him, back flush against the hard planes of his chest. 

You couldn’t stop the loud cry as he slid back into you, his hand splaying across your stomach to hold you against him.

“Mmm,” he groaned, breath ghosting over your shoulder. “Well…”

You clutched his thighs as he began to pound into you, hard and fast and dirty.

“If that’s the case, Y/N,” he chuckled salaciously. “I suggest…”

His name fell from your lips as his free hand dropped to between your spread legs, fingers slipping over the swollen bud of your clit and moving in circles.

“I suggest,” he repeated, teeth closing around the lobe of your ear. 

Your head fell back against his shoulder, hand winding up to grab the curls at the nape of his neck.

“That you should _come_.”

The rough, sexual way that he enunciated that word was like a catalyst, and your orgasm broke, pulsating through every cell in your body and making you cry his name loud enough to make your throat hurt, body shaking and trembling with immense force. And all through it he just smirked against your skin, lips against the junction between your neck and shoulder as he kept moving into you, sweetening the peak of your climax.

Who knows how long it was before your mind came back to you, but when it did you found yourself still collapsed back to Castiel’s chest, your own heaving with the exertion of your pleasure.

You barely had the time to catch your breath though, because Castiel was already pushing you forward to manoeuvre you onto your hands and knees, shifting without even sliding out of you.

He had talent, it had to be said.

He groaned lowly, this position opening you up to him and allowing him to thrust much easier. You gasped, the movement almost too much for your now sensitive sex.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” he breathed, fingers tightening over your waist, squeezing.

Listening to his sounds was almost hot enough to get you going again, but before that thought had finished in your mind a moan bubbled out from his throat and his grip tightened to an almost unbearable point.

He suddenly let go of you, his hands dropping to either side of your head and his body melding against your back, mouth once again hot and voracious against your ear.

“Gonna come, Y/N,” he groaned fiercely, “gonna come in that hot, wet pussy of yours, fuck – _ahhh_ …”

True to his word, he did, panting and moaning in your ear as he moved erratically against you, his orgasm taking hold as he pulsed inside you. You bit your lip, the feel and sound of him coming almost too much for you to bear.

He eventually pulled out of you and moved off of you to lean back on his knees, breathing laboured and body covered in sweat.

You went to move but a hand slid over your ass, halting you still.

“Stay there,” he commanded breathlessly, “I wanna watch.”

“Watch what?” you answered back, tone slightly sharp.

“I want to watch my come drip out of you,” he said simply, making you squirm in disgust.

“ _Castiel!_ That’s disgusting! No _way_ ,” you responded, trying to move away from him before gravity hit.

His hand slapped your ass sharply, making things move south a lot faster, and you couldn’t help the burn of shame wash over you as you felt his seed begin to slide out of your sex, hot and sticky.

“Mmm, beautiful creampie,” he grinned sickeningly, fingers flirting with your wet lips and making you tremble. “Look at that.”

You remained still for a while longer, irritated at this weird, perverted fetish he obviously had going on.

“My arms are killing me,” you complained, annoyed at the growing mess between your legs and bed. “Can I get up now?”

He laughed, pulling you up before you had time to blink. His hand moved around the front of your throat, fingers holding your chin as he turned your head to kiss you, sexy and languid and slow and making your knees weaken at the hotness of it. Your irritation rapidly dissipated at the slide of his tongue against your own, and you moaned into his mouth as he pulled away with a suck on your lip.

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he chuckled. “This was fun. Until next time.”

With a whir he was gone, taking the heat and support of his body with him and leaving you cold and sated.

You huffed, flopping back down into the sheets, burying your head in your pillow.

You had to admit it.

While Castiel irritated you, pushed your buttons and even disgusted you at times, you had to be truthfully honest with yourself: you loved having sex with him.

You were by no means a virgin when you had met him (hell, Castiel was no saint himself), but there was no denying that he did things to you that your past lovers simply couldn’t. He had this immeasurable way of playing your body like an instrument, making it sing in pleasure. You’d only met him twice and fucked him a handful of times but you were already anticipating the next time you would see him.

You could deal with the lewd comments and brash personality if it meant having that mouth dominate your own and those hands manhandle your body and that cock sliding through your wet heat.

He was rapidly becoming an addiction, and you had to be careful, lest something horrendous like _feelings_ began to develop.

Sex, that’s all this deal was. Just _sex_.

Nevertheless, you found yourself eagerly awaiting the next time that you would see him, hoping against hope it would be soon.

In an attempt to dispel that disturbing thought, you lifted yourself out of bed and reached for a nearby t-shirt before flinging it over yourself, face screwing up at the mess between your thighs (and all over your bed – you were definitely changing those later). You shuffled out of the room and headed down to the kitchen, image of a sticky, red mess awaiting you.

You entered the kitchen and promptly stopped, looking around in bewilderment.

Gone was the shattered glass. Gone was the red, explosive mess of the salsa from earlier. Gone were the lumpy splodges scattered across the cabinets and flooring.

However, gone were also the chips and nuts and all the snacks that Castiel had been –

 _Castiel_.

He must have cleaned everything. There was literally no other explanation for it. He must have mojo-ed everything clean somehow before he had left.

At that realisation, a strange, warm feeling you couldn’t quite place set itself squarely in your chest, and you felt your throat constrict before you shook your head forcefully and turned back towards the bedroom, that sensation pulsating and unfamiliar.

 


End file.
